Careful Words

brook (n.)

brook (v.)

Standing with reluctant feet

Where the brook and river meet,

Womanhood and childhood fleet!

Henry W Longfellow (1807-1882): Maidenhood.

As thou these ashes, little brook, wilt bear

Into the Avon, Avon to the tide

Of Severn, Severn to the narrow seas,

Into main ocean they, this deed accursed

An emblem yields to friends and enemies

How the bold teacher's doctrine, sanctified

By truth, shall spread, throughout the world dispersed.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): Ecclesiastical Sonnets. Part ii. xvii. To Wickliffe.

The moon looks

On many brooks

"The brook can see no moon but this."

Thomas Moore (1779-1852): While gazing on the Moon's Light.

Yes, while I stood and gazed, my temples bare,

And shot my being through earth, sea, and air,

Possessing all things with intensest love,

O Liberty! my spirit felt thee there.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834): France. An Ode. v.

Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down,

Where a green grassy turf is all I crave,

With here and there a violet bestrewn,

Fast by a brook or fountain's murmuring wave;

And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave!

James Beattie (1735-1803): The Minstrel. Book ii. Stanza 17.

I wandered by the brookside,

I wandered by the mill;

I could not hear the brook flow,

The noisy wheel was still.

Richard Monckton Milnes (Lord Houghton) (1809-1885): The Brookside.

Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry VI. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

A noise like of a hidden brook

In the leafy month of June,

That to the sleeping woods all night

Singeth a quiet tune.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834): The Ancient Mariner. Part v.

Or if Sion hill

Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook, that flow'd

Fast by the oracle of God.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 10.

Oh for a seat in some poetic nook,

Just hid with trees and sparkling with a brook!

Leigh Hunt (1784-1859): Politics and Poetics.

Mine be a cot beside the hill;

A beehive's hum shall soothe my ear;

A willowy brook that turns a mill,

With many a fall, shall linger near.

Samuel Rogers (1763-1855): A Wish.

Many can brook the weather that love not the wind.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Love's Labour's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.