HE SONG OF 
 HE BROOK 
 
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 ROBINSON 
 

THE 
 
 SONG OF THE BROOK. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY BY 
 THE REV. HUGH JOHNSTON, D. D. 
 
 OF THE — — 
 
 Woman's College of Baltimore. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY E. O. JONES. 
 
 Copyright 1904, by Jno. G. RoBlNsoN, 16.% N. Calvert St. 
 BALTIMORE, MD. 
 
LIBRARY of congress! 
 
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 DEC 19 
 
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 PREFACE 
 
 In launching this little craft upon the great ocean of 
 literature, the author is aware of the many obstacles to be 
 met, and the perils which threaten the unskilled and timid 
 mariner upon his first voyage; but with a consiousness of 
 a purpose to awaken a 'true response in every heart to the 
 sentiments which I have gleaned from Nature's teeming 
 harvest fields, I commit this little song to the tender mer- 
 cies of public favor. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 My friend, Mr. J. G. Robinson, is so modest and unassum- 
 ing that it was only after an acquaintance of six years that 
 I discovered that he possessed the poetic fire, the "gift and 
 faculty divine. " I learned this when he gave me some of his 
 versification to read. Among the poems was "The Song of 
 THE Brook." This little poem, beautifully illustrated, re- 
 veals a gift of vision, an insight into and a happy description 
 of nature that is far beyond the ordinary. What is the poet 
 but a prophet announcing high truths ? This booklet will 
 well repay reading. It is not only full of music and beauty, 
 but of manliness and strength, of vividness and insight, of 
 sentiment and piety. 
 
 It is no small thing for a man considerably past the merid- 
 ian of life, amid constant business activities, to find relaxa- 
 tion in the high art of poetry, to live in constant sympathy 
 with the beauty and truth that is in nature and in the spiritual 
 depths of man's soul. 
 
 May this little book of song make music wherever it goes. 
 
 HUGH JOHNSTON. 
 Baltimore, March 15th, 1904. 
 
®I|^ ^mg, of tl]? Irnok. 
 
 BY J. G. ROBINSON. 
 
 Little sparkling, laughing brook, 
 Joyous in thy morning song- 
 Washing every craggy nook 
 In thy course while flowing on. 
 
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 Come and teach me thy true song; 
 
 Help me learn the secret power 
 Of thy music all day long, 
 
 'Neath the woodlands' shady bower. 
 
Listen then and heed it well; 
 
 I the truth will now unfold, 
 As through moss and fern clad dell 
 
 I the story oft have told. 
 
 From my ocean cradle bed 
 'Mid the surging billows foam, 
 
 I on misty pinions sped 
 To a far off sunlit home. 
 
 Let me take you to that home 
 In the chambers of the skies; 
 
 Whence I came to Earth, to roam 
 On a mission, good and wise. 
 
In those airy realms above, 
 Clad in fleecy vestments bright 
 
 Guarded by a Father's love, 
 I first saw the dawn of light. 
 
 And its rays with magic power 
 Thrilled my soul, as down they fell 
 
 On the Earth, a golden shower, 
 Painting there my form so well. 
 
 As I upward turned my gaze 
 To its face so pure and bright. 
 
 All the beauty of its rays 
 Flashed upon my ravished sight; 
 
And with love inspired I cried; 
 
 0! thou peerless orb of light 
 What's my mission? It replied 
 
 With a smile serenely bright; 
 
 Follow every ray of mine 
 With a joyous song of love, 
 
 Go to every land and clime 
 Singing of your home above. 
 
 Tell them of your Father's love, 
 Of your matchless purity; 
 
 Thus, your mission from above 
 Teach to all men faithfully. 
 
So obediently I came 
 
 To my home upon the earth; 
 In the dew drop, in the rain, 
 
 In the snow 'mid winter's mirth. 
 
 And the song I daily sing 
 
 Is the grandest song of earth, 
 
 Let its praise then loudly ring, 
 That each lip may speak its worth. 
 
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 The grand theme of my great song 
 
 In obedience is found, 
 I am happy all day long 
 
 As I wander 'round and 'round— 
 
Down the mountain's lofty height, 
 Through the medows clad in green, 
 
 Making music day and night 
 As I brighten every scene. 
 
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Here the thirsty cattle sip 
 Of my stream while flowing on! 
 
 And the swallows in me dip 
 To refresh them for their song! 
 
 Here the scaly tribe abound 
 Sporting all the happy hours, 
 
 In my Sylvan depths profound 
 'Mid reflected blooming flowers, 
 
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 Which in rich profusion grow 
 On my verdant mossy banks, 
 
 Watered by my overflow — 
 Giving forth their perfumed thanks. 
 
And the dew-drops slumb'ring there 
 Dreaming of Nocturnal bliss, 
 
 Are transformed to fragrant prayer 
 By the Day-god's morning kiss. 
 
 Water lilies, where I'm still, 
 Peer above my placid breast, 
 
 To display the golden skill 
 Folded in their snowy vest. 
 
 Drawing from me life and bloom 
 
 Beauty, fragrance, form and grace- 
 Ministers, amid life's gloom 
 From the Father's smiling face. 
 
How they speak to us of love 
 Pure and beautiful as light, 
 
 Coming from his home above 
 Fragrant messengers in white, 
 
 Floating on my bosom fair 
 Voiceless — yet they speak to n 
 
 Of His presence everywhere 
 Shaping human destiny. 
 
 Thus I brighten every spot 
 
 Where the foot of man hath trod- 
 Save the desert — drear and hot—! 
 
 Where I must "obey the rod." 
 
While the Pilgrims stop and drink 
 To refresh them on their way 
 
 E're they reach the Jordan's brink, 
 Goal of interest day by day. 
 
 
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 How I'm sought by every thing 
 On the land or in the sea! 
 
 Do you wonder that I sing 
 Songs of thrilling melody! 
 
Lads and Lassies day by day 
 Come to listen to my song; 
 
 And the music of my lay 
 
 Blends their tender souls in one. 
 
 Birdies bright on swiftest wing 
 Seek me in my cool retreat; 
 
 Take a tiny draught and sing 
 Of my praise sublimely sweet. 
 
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 Thus I gladden all the earth, 
 Scattering blessings as 1 go — 
 
 Telling of my noble birth 
 As I ever onward flow. 
 
To the ocean deep and wide 
 Where my secret power dwells 
 
 There my treasures all abide 
 And from out my bosom swells 
 
 Gratitude and Praise to Him 
 Whose divine and gracious hand 
 
 Called me fourth that I might sing 
 This sweet song to every land. 
 

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