The Stream

The stream glimmers

with the gold of the sun,

the blue of the sky, 

the wing of the blackbird

flying by.

The wind through the

willows speaks to me

from the banks of the stream

that flows to the sea.

Through the willows it returns

as between the banks returns 

the stream.

A thousand years, 

a thousand more, 

the stream will glimmer 

with the gold of the sun,

the blue of the sky, 

the wing of the blackbird

flying by.

Poem Source


.

Happy Hump Day!

It's all downstream after today ... Happy Wednesday!

Source

By The Stream by Paul Laurence Dunbar

BY the stream I dream in calm delight, and watch as in a glass,

How the clouds like crowds of snowy-hued and white-robed maidens pass,

And the water into ripples breaks and sparkles as it spreads,

Like a host of armored knights with silver helmets on their heads.

And I deem the stream an emblem fit of human life may go,

For I find a mind may sparkle much and yet but shallows show,

And a soul may glow with myriad lights and wondrous mysteries,

When it only lies a dormant thing and mirrors what it sees.

Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls...