Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 9, 2025
There was a quiet walk that he knew so well; one went up from a little green byroad, following an unnamed brooklet scarce a foot wide, but yet wandering like a river, gurgling over its pebbles, with its dwarf bushes shading the pouring water.
The site of the burial-ground was unusually picturesque: sheltered towards the north by a rising ground clothed with woods, sloping down at the south towards the glebe pasture-grounds through which ran the brooklet, sufficiently near for its brawling gurgle to be heard on a still day.
Oh! Time! Time! the wrecks that lie scattered in thy pathway! That little brooklet, and the peepers, the fountain, the maples, and the meadow, are all gone. The brave old oak was riven by the lightning.
He is not insensible to pastoral charms, and often selects a home among the hemlocks and under the broad-armed oaks, by bosky glen or open mead, wherever the brooklet brawls or dreams, for he sticks to the waterside like a beaver. Here he sits down, like an artist as he is, until he has got all the choice bits of the grove.
When following some shy bird to its nest, or moving down toward the grove where are the brooklet and the birds' bathing-place, no matter how quietly one may approach, footsteps deadened by thick sand and no rustling garments to betray, the orchard oriole is sure to know it.
"Just like you, Cora, always afraid of making some one trouble." Her eyes were on the brooklet and filled with tears, as she remembered how happy Adelpha Leisler had been when at Salem, and how heavily the hand of affliction had fallen upon her. "Charles, were you with her when it happened?" she asked. "I was." "Did you comfort her?"
This poor, simple, innocent, trusting creature, so utterly incapable of coming into any true relation with his aspiring mind, his large and strong emotions, this mere child, all simplicity and goodness, but trivial and shallow as the little babbling brooklet that ran by his window to the river, to lose its insignificant being in the swift torrent he heard rushing over the rocks, this pretty idol for a weak and kindly and easily satisfied worshipper, was to be enthroned as the queen of his affections, to be adopted as the companion of his labors!
"Don't answer him, Miriam," advised Nora. "He is like Tennyson's 'Brooklet, he goes on forever." "How peaceful and quiet it was in Oakdale until yesterday," was Hippy's sorrowful comment. "'Gone are the days when my heart was light and gay, etc." "It will be not merely a case of bygone days, but bygone Hippy as well," threatened David.
In The Maid of the Mill cycle where the young miller discovers the brook Schubert uses this figure, which gives a clear picture of a chattering brooklet. This figure continues throughout the song.
One glance across the brook into the fern thicket; then one irrepressible feminine scream; and then: "Cornelia!" "Quintus!" Drusus sprang forward, but almost fell into the brooklet. The bridge was gone. Cornelia had started up, and tried to cover her arms and shake her tunic over her feet. Her cheeks were all smiles and blushes. But Drusus's situation was both pathetic and ludicrous.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking