"The bubbling brook cloth leap when I come by, 



Because my feet find measure with its call; 

 The birds know when the friend they love is nigh, 



For I am known to them, both great and small, 

 The flower that on the lonely hillside grows 



Expects me there when spring its bloom has given: 

 And many a tree and bush my wanderings knows, 



And e'en the clouds and silent stars of heaven." 



