Classic Poem

As steals the brook, half hidden and half seen,
Through forest dim, deep vale, and meadow green,
Nor heeds the rise and fall of empires great,
Nor seeks the city's splendor, pomp and state,
So it can make to grow more rich and rank
The flowers and trees that live along its bank:

Thus flows the quiet current of thy life,
Far from the fields of war and worldly strife,
From fashion's follies far, and public fame:
Yet in thy home thou bearest a cherished name,
And all true hearts around thee love to bless
The unfailing fountain of thy kindliness.