The  BROOK-SIDE

By
Richard Monckton Milnes
1809 - 1885

&/\&/\&

I wander'd by the brook-side,

I wander'd by the mill, ---

I could not hear the brook flow,

The noisy wheel was still;

There was no burr of grasshopper,

No chirp of any bird:

But the beating of my own heart

Was all the sound I heard.
 

I sat beneath the elm-tree;

I watch'd the long long shade,

And as it grew still longer

I did not feel afraid:

For I listen'd for a footfall,

I listen'd for a word, ---

But the beating of my own heart

Was all the sound I heard.
 

He came not, --- no !    He came not;

The night came on alone,

The little stars sat one by one

Each on his golden throne;

The evening wind pass'd by my cheek,

The leaves above were stirr'd, ---

But the beating of my own heart

Was all the sound I heard.
 

Fast silent tears were flowing,

When something stood behind;

A hand was on my shoulder, ---

I knew its touch was kind;

It drew me nearer, nearer;

We did not speak one word, ---

For the beating of our own hearts

Was all the sound we heard.
 

&/\&/\&