The little brook sings a song,

So soft and merrily.

It sings of all the joys in life

As it curves round a tree.

The poison ivy on the bank

Is lying in the shade.

It lifts its creeping vine to see

How close the children wade.

The birds start-up a lively tune,

To voice their happiness.

How wild and sweet their melody,

They make a lot of fuss.

And yet,we on a higher plane

Complain about the flies.

We don’t take time to sit and see

The beauty with our eyes.

Yu/stan/kema (age 19.)