Upon a gentle brook midst verdant glade,
A merry sprite of light does find its stage.
And through the rustling leaves, a serenade,
It pirouettes with joy, each ripple a verse.
It leaps and bounds, in each capricious flight,
Across the tranquil stream’s silken bed.
An airy minstrel cloaked in summer’s light,
It gleams with golden grace, in green arrayed.
A maiden fair, in quiet repose near,
Her heart enchants with such radiant play.
In nature’s spectacle, she finds her cheer,
For this is her contentment’s sweetest lay.
Of forest, brook, of light, and maiden’s gaze,
The summer’s jest, in sonnet’s gentle phrase.
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