My Babbling Brook...

This is my new secret hideaway. Somewhere to sit and think and contemplate the simple things in life. The sound of the birds singing, the whispering wind through the leaves and the sound of a babbling brook as it makes its way from somewhere to somewhere, but never ending.
I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.
I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and star:
In brambly wildernesses:
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

Alfred Tennyson. The Brook


This is the Wales I love the most.