Poem by Ellis Parker Butler

The Water Nymphs

They hide in the brook when I seek to draw nearer,
  Laughing amain when I feign to depart;
Often I hear them, now faint and now clearer—
  Innocent bold or so sweetly discreet.
Are they Nymphs of the Stream at their playing
  Or but the brook I mistook for a voice?
Little care I; for, despite harsh Time’s flaying,
  Brook voice or Nymph voice still makes me rejoice.

1. To Jessica, Gone Back to the City
2. The Poor Boy’s Christmas
3. The Final Tax
4. To May
5. Womanly Qualms

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