The Brook

_{Alfred Tennyson}

I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers;

I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.



I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;

I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.



I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;

I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;



And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.