Rock and Rill

"INTO the sunshine out of shade!"The rill has heard the call,And, babbling low, her answer made,—A laugh, 'twixt slip and fall.

Out from her cradle-roof of trees,Over the free, rough ground!The peaceful blue above she sees;The cheerful green around.

A pleasant world for running streamsTo steal unnoticed through,At play with all the sweet sky-gleams,And nothing: else to do!

A rock has stopped the silent rill,And taught her how to speak:He hinders her; she chides him still;He loves her lispings meek.

And still he will not let her go:But she may chide and sing,And o'er him liquid freshness throw,Amid her murmuring.

The harebell sees herself no moreIn waters clear at play;Yet never she such azure wore,Till wept on by the spray.

And many a woodland violetStays charmed upon the bank;Her thoughtful blue eye brimming wet,The rock and rill to thank.

The rill is blessing in her talkWhat half she held a wrong,—The happy trouble of the rockThat makes her life a song.