They hide in the brook when I seek to draw nearer,
Laughing amain when I feign to depart;
Often I hear them, now faint and now clearer-
Innocent bold or so sweetly discreet.
Are they Nymphs of the Stream at their playing
Or but the brook I mistook for a voice?
Little care I; for, despite harsh Time’s flaying,
Brook voice or Nymph voice still makes me rejoice.
(Ellis Parker Butler)
More Poetry from Ellis Parker Butler:
- Circumstanti (Ellis Parker Butler Poems)
- Deer (Ellis Parker Butler Poems)
- When Ida Puts Her Armor On (Ellis Parker Butler Poem)
- Why I Went To The Foot (Ellis Parker Butler Poem)
- Why Washington Retreated (Ellis Parker Butler Poem)
- Womanly Qualms (Ellis Parker Butler Poem)