They hide in the brook when I seek to draw nearer, <br />Laughing amain when I feign to depart; <br />Often I hear them, now faint and now clearer— <br />Innocent bold or so sweetly discreet. <br />Are they Nymphs of the Stream at their playing <br />Or but the brook I mistook for a voice? <br />Little care I; for, despite harsh Time’s flaying, <br />Brook voice or Nymph voice still makes me rejoice.<br /><br />Ellis Parker Butler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-water-nymphs/
