LITTLE STREAMS. 59 
Here have seen, as now, pass by 
Kingfisher and dragon-fly; 
Those bright things that have their dwelling 
Where the little streams are welling. 
Down in valleys green and lowly, 
Murmuring not and gliding slowly; 
Up in mountain hollows wild, 
Fretting like a peevish child ; 
Through the hamlet, where all day 
In their waves the children play,— 
Running west, or running east, 
Doing good to man and beast, 
Always giving, weary never, 
Little streams, I love you ever! 
