The Frozen Brook

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Title:     The Frozen Brook
Author: Frank Oliver Call [More Titles by Call]

The winter woods lie gray and still
Beneath the dreary sunless skies,
The brook that rippled down the hill
In summer hours, all silent lies.

And though its breast by ice is bound,
By bending low and listening long,
I hear a faint and far-off sound--
The echo of a summer song.

O weary heart, though cold and drear
The days along thy pathway seem,
To Nature's breast bend low thine ear
And listen to its pulsing stream.

[The end]
Frank Oliver Call's poem: Frozen Brook

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