I Bring A Message From The Stream To Fan The Burning Cheeks Of Town, From Morning'S Tower Of Pearl And Rose I Bring This Cup Of Crystal Down, With Brimming Dews Agleam, And From My Lady'S Garden Close I Bring This Flower. O Walk With Me, Ye Jaded Brows, And I Will Sing The Song I Found Making A Lonely Rippling Sound Under The Boughs. The Tinkle Of The Brook Is There, And Cow-Bells Wandering Through The Fern, And Silver Calls From Waterfalls, And Echoes Floating Through The Air From Happiness I Know Not Where, And Hum And Drone Where'Er I Turn Of Little Lives That Buzz And Die; And Sudden Lucent Melodies, Like Hidden Strings Among The Trees Roofing The Summer Sky. The Soft Breath Of The Briar I Bring, And Wafted Scents Of Mint And Clover, Rain-Distilled Balms The Hill-Winds Fling, Sweet-Thoughted As A Lover; Incense From Lilied Urns A-Swaying, And The Green Smell Of Grass Where Men Are Haying. As Through The Streets I Pass, With Their Shrill Clatter, This Largesse From The Hills And Streams, This Quietude Of Flowers And Dreams, Round Me I Scatter.