Verse > Henry Wadsworth Longfellow > Complete Poetical Works
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882).  Complete Poetical Works.  1893.
From the French.
To my Brooklet
(À mon Ruisseau)
By Jean François Ducis

THOU brooklet, all unknown to song,
  Hid in the covert of the wood!
Ah, yes, like thee I fear the throng,
  Like thee I love the solitude.
O brooklet, let my sorrows past        5
  Lie all forgotten in their graves,
Till in my thoughts remain at last
  Only thy peace, thy flowers, thy waves.
The lily by thy margin waits;—
  The nightingale, the marguerite;        10
In shadow here he meditates
  His nest, his love, his music sweet.
Near thee the self-collected soul
  Knows naught of error or of crime;
Thy waters, murmuring as they roll,        15
  Transform his musings into rhyme.
Ah, when, on bright autumnal eves,
  Pursuing still thy course, shall I
List the soft shudder of the leaves,
  And hear the lapwing’s plaintive cry?        20

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