Friday, July 04, 2014

Poetry Friday: "The whisper and the laughter of my brook."




My Brook 
by Helen Hay Whitney

Earth holds no sweeter secret anywhere
Than this my brook, that lisps along the green
Of mossy channels, where slim birch trees lean
Like tall pale ladies, whose delicious hair,
Lures and invites the kiss of wanton air.
The smooth soft grasses, delicate between
The rougher stalks, by waifs alone are seen,
Shy things that live in sweet seclusion there.

And is it still the same, and do the eyes
Of every silver ripple meet the trees
That bend above like guarding emerald skies?
I turn, who read the city’s beggared book,
And hear across the moan of many seas
The whisper and the laughter of my brook.

~~~~~

The round up is at My Juicy Little Universe.

Happy 4th of July!

4 comments:

Julie Larios said...

Wow,that is a fascinating poem, Karen. Must go look up Helen Hat Whitney. Thanks for posting it today.

Monica said...

I remember so clearly the tree I used to climb when I was growing up. This poem reminds me of that kind of experience. Thanks for sharing, Karen.

Michelle Heidenrich Barnes said...

Wonderful! I especially love this image: "where slim birch trees lean
Like tall pale ladies..."

Heidi Mordhorst said...

I just love this, the passion, the ownership of the experience, "my" brook, the word choices. Fascinating is right! Thanks, Karen.