[80] The Brook (excerpt)
`O babbling brook,' says Edmund in his rhyme,
`Whence come you?' and the brook, why not? replies.
I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally,
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.
By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.
Till last by Philip's farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
`Poor lad, he died at Florence, quite worn out,
Travelling to Naples. There is Darnley bridge,
It has more ivy; there the river; and there
Stands Philip's farm where brook and river meet.
I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.
With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.
I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
`But Philip chatter'd more than brook or bird;
Old Philip; all about the fields you caught
His weary daylong chirping, like the dry
High-elbow'd grigs that leap in summer grass. [grig = cricket - m.]
I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,
And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel,
And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
-- Alfred, Lord Tennyson
|
Full poem at
<http://www.hti.umich.edu/bin/epd/epd-idx.pl?type=HTML&rgn=POEM&byte=747648275>
Reproduced from the English Poetry Full-Text Database Copyright (c)
[1992-1995] Chadwyck-Healey Ltd.
This is a wonderfully lyrical poem, even for Tennyson - in places it verges
on pure music. In fact, it is hardly necessary to 'understand' it - just let
the images and beautifully patterned rhythms flow past, evoking the babbling
brook. I could go through this excerpt line by line, saying exactly what I
like about each one, but if this isn't a poem that should speak for itself,
I don't know what is. In passing, though - it has immortalized the phrase
'babbling brook', enshrining it so thoroughly into the language that even
those who have never heard of Tennyson would apply no other adjective.
m. (Happy Star Wars day! [1])
[1] May the 4th...
From: santanu.chari@
This poem takes me back to my English Class, X Std. where we would read from
Panorama: A collection of Poems (ICSE). We grew up to mug, recite and
eventually love these poems. Probably the most important reason why I like
this one.
It's very jolly and bouncy. One can read it aloud and feel the Rhyme and
Rhythm. Its as if The Brook's woken up at dawn and is hopping along towards
the river for a bath.
Not to forget the spirit of the refrain:
"For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever. "
Regards,
Santanu Chari
From: "Ross & Mitch Graham" <rosmic@>
I had a wonderful teacher in about fourth class primary who taught us
this poem . I used to be able to recite at least some of it - perhaps
all.
This is the first time in 38 years that I have found it again.The
pleasure & memory are hard to put into words.
From: "Gomati Ramachandran" <gramachandran@>
This is such a lovely poem.. captures and brings to mind so much of
romance and imagination..
Takes away so much of stress from my mind.., brings so much of life into
me and a fascination for bringing it to life in my life..don't know how
to though..
I tried painting my feelings on this poem.., but was not satisfied..
Gomati
From: "Chainani, Shailendra" <SChainani@>
hello:
I would like a copy of this book "Panorama: A collection of poems". Does
anyone know where I can get one? or the name of the publisher.
Shailendra Chainani
From: "Alicia Vennos" <a.vennos@>
Hello...
How delighted I was to find this excerpt of "The Brook"! My father-in-law
is 81 and remembers this more extensive version of the poem, which he
memorized in third grade in Saskatchewan, Canada! He asked me to try and
find him a copy of it and after two hours on the Internet, your site was the
only one I found with the longer version. I am not a "member or subscriber"
so could not access the full copy of the poem...please let me know how I
might do that? I live in a small town about 5 hours from the closest
city/university so I don't have access to an excellent library, either.
Many thanks for your assistance.
--Alicia
From: "Sashi C" <chilakapati_s@>
Hello Santanu
My name is Sashi. I came upon your note about Panorama: A Collection of
Poems(ICSE). I was a ICSE student myself and I couldn't agree more.
I was wondering if you remember a poem called 'Simon Snoot's Whiskers'.
We had this poem in the eighth grade, but I can't recall the poet's
name. The poem is about Simon's whiskers, which he dearly loves and
cares for, but, eventually a goat eats them.
I've tried searching for it on the net unsuccessfully. Can you please
let me know if you know of any site where I can find it.
Thanks a bunch and have a great day. :-)
Regards,
Sashi.
chilakapati_s@
From: "Stephen Marshall" <snmdpm@>
A Question::
What was "Philip's Farm" and another question...
What is "O babbling brook from?"
Any response is welcome.
SNM in Syracuse
From: Johann Du Plessis <komzani@>
Hi
I too am looking for the poem about Simon Snoot. Please let me know where I can find it as I have searched the internet thoroughly, but with no results.
Regards
Eric
From: "vachher" <vachher@>
I've been searching for long for a mention of Panorama - a collection of
poems. i was a student of ICSE and just cannot forget the romance and
fragrance of some of the poems. Our English teacher, Mrs. Seymour made
those poems memorable for us.
St. Patricks Junior College
From: Vinita Unny <vini_emba@>
Sashi
I got your email on the web when I ran a search on
"Simon Snoot's Whiskers". I went to an ICSE school as
well and actually recited that poem in an elocution
competition to win first place. I noticed that you
has asked someone about it.....did you ever find it?
If you did can you email it to me.
Thank you
Vinita
From: Andrew McCarthy <mccarthyjp2@>
This poem is not just a poem it is a limnological thesis, I used it in
my final degree exam in 1969, try feeling it as a stream. The biology is
fantastic.
andrew mccarthy
an aged biology teacher
From: Roger Pelizzari <pelizzari@>
Greetings from the Blue Ridge Mts. of North Carolina,
I was browsing poetry sites on the internet and read your comment at
the - cs.rice.edu site on Tennyson's The Brook. I just happen to have=20
the complete poem, so if you still need it, here it is.
I'm a former teacher and poet, and now a meditating monk living in the=20
Blue Ridge Mts. of N. Carolina. You can read some of my own poems at =20
<http://SpeakPoetry.blogspot.com>
By the end of the week I will also post a few as audio files to listen=20
to.
Enjoy,
Roger Pelizzari
-----------------------------------
Alfred, Lord Tennyson =A0(1809-1892)
The Brook
`O babbling brook,' says Edmund in his rhyme,
`Whence come you?' and the brook, why not? replies.
I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally,
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.
By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.
Till last by Philip's farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
`Poor lad, he died at Florence, quite worn out,
Travelling to Naples. There is Darnley bridge,
It has more ivy; there the river; and there
Stands Philip's farm where brook and river meet.
I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.
With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.
I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
`But Philip chatter'd more than brook or bird;
Old Philip; all about the fields you caught
His weary daylong chirping, like the dry
High-elbow'd grigs that leap in summer grass. [grig " cricket - m.]
I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,
And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel,
And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
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 stars
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.
From: "TJ Pannu" <tj@>
I also had this poem in the 10th standard, sometime in 1994. I never thought
sitting in the class listening to a poem about a brook thousands of miles
away written at least a hundred years before my time. It appeared to me
about a subject, the brook that was completely alien to me. But the words of
the poem today bring joy of the days gone by, the days of my childhood back
home in India.