Brook, The Poem by Ina D. Coolbrith

Through the dreary winter,
Ice-locked, white and chill!
All its laughter sleeping,
All its music still;
Not a flower to love it
From the bank above it;
Not a bird to trill,
In its ripples laving
Yellow wing and bill;
No green, shadowy silence,
Where one may go at will,
And dream and dream one’s fill.

Without voice or color,
In a barren land:
Dripping skies bent over-
Dripping trees that stand,
Forlorn, on either hand.

But a little sunshine-
How its voice will wake!
Over sand and pebble
Glad for summer’s sake!
Fairy boats shall ride it,
Lovers walk beside it,
Bird colonies,
From over seas,
Build in bough and brake;
Flowers and flow’ring sedges
Laugh along its edges-
Glad for summer’s sake!

Just a little sunshine!
And the clouds will part;
All its fettered beauty
Into life will start.
Be glad, thou shinning rover,
With bird, and bee, and clover!
Sing summer through and over,
Ah, happy that thou art! ...
Just a little sunshine-
O my heart, my heart!