Thou hastenest down between the hills to meet me at the road. The secret scarcely lisping of thy beautiful abode Among the pines and mosses of yonder shadowy height, Where thou dost sparkle into song, and fill the woods with light. Lucy LarcomFriend Brook. St. 1.
Brook! whose society the poet seeks, Intent his wasted spirits to renew; And whom the curious painter doth pursue Through rocky passes, among flowery creeks, And tracks thee dancing down thy water-breaks. WordsworthBrook! Whose Society the Poet Seeks.