The brooklet is my devotion

My devotion is the brooklet,

the little brook in the forest,

it bubbles through shadows

and sunshine,

and I look into the water

from the bank,

no mirror can be clearer,

cannot be more pure;

as I look from a distant hill,

its beauty still beckons me,

flashing brightly through the bushes

like silver and gold,

and when my view is screened

by the foliage,

still I can hear its splashing

like filling a pail;

then sounds from the darkness

so faithfully in my ear,

and whispering to me of longing

and homesickness.