Still, In The Meadow By The Brook I Lay Poem by Philip Henry Savage

Still, in the meadow by the brook I lay
And felt the April creep along my streams,
Subdue my currents to herself and play
At hide-and-seek with winter in my dreams.

Rich in the summer day the time is rife
With all an eager fancy will contrive;
But April welcomes each new shock of life
The sluggard winter from the heart to drive.

Thus did I tremble at the passing bird,
Leaped in the sun and with the breezes ran,
My heart a brook, and all my life a word
To tell how near to nature is a man.