We ramble on, the stream and I,
Still singing, still companionless;
We run to find, beneath the sky,
Some arid spot, some life to bless:
The brook is dreaming of the sea;
But I, fond spirit, dream of thee.

The brook's bright waters flow and flow;
All lush and green his track appears,
And it is given me to know
Some choral of the chanting spheres:
Our lives are tuneful as the birds,
With rippled song and gentle words.

And if, sometimes, we lurk apart
In secret grot or covert dale,
To bide a space and gather heart,
Anon we 're laughing down the vale.
Though rain or tears our forces swell
We find the sun and all is well.