The Brook

Posted by Henry on February 02, 2004

In Reply to: Re: Poem read in school posted by ESC on February 02, 2004

: : Hi

: : I know this is probably the rong place to try but here goes anyway. I am trying to find a poem I read in school in Scotland. It was about a Hawthorne tree and a babbling brook. I cant remember the author or title, ( big help). It is quite important as my mother in law read the same poem and loved it but she is very poorly at the moment and I would love to find it for her. so if there are any old or new English teachers out there that can help I would be very grateful. Thanks anyway.

: : Lorna

: I am in the U.S. I collect children's poetry books and have several old ones. So if someone has a clue to the title and can't locate it online, I'd be glad to try and find it.

Here's a babbling brook but no hawthorn!
The Brook by Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.

By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorpes, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.

Till last by Philip's farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.

With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.

I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,

And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel,

And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

• The Deserted Village Henry 02/February/04
  • Re: The Deserted Village ESC 03/February/04
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