I ask as one who knew the brook, its strength And impulse, having dipped a finger length And made it leap my knuckle, having tossed A flower to try its currents where they crossed. Except forget to go in fear perhaps. No one would know except for ancient maps That such a brook ran water. But I wonder If from its being kept forever under The thoughts may not have risen that so keep This new-built city from both work and sleep. It's the social event of the week.
Nothing here is official.
Please don't sue us. Adds a negligible amount of fat. Do not use in cribs, beds, carriages, or playpens. Maybe I'll just stay here and knit. Mind the gap.