Trested awhile in a quiet nook,
And found there teachers three
One was a bird, and one was a brook,
And one was a green, green tree.
The wee bird sang a cheerful song
That no one heard but me;
And it seemed to say, “You’ve heard my lay,
Pass on its melody!”
And the brook flowed on in a glad, glad way,
Smiling at the rock’s rebuff.
“I have no room,” it said, “for gloom;
I laugh when the road is rough!”
green tree stood with wide, wide boughs,
Like hand outstretched to greet;
And when the branches stirred,
I caught this word:
“Be a friend to all you meet!”
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