Have you got a little brook in your heart,
Where bashful flowers grow,
And blushing birds go down to drink,
And shadows tremble so?
And nobody knows, so still it flows,
That any brook is there,
And yet your little draught of life
Is daily drunken there.
(stanzas 2/4, continues)
- Emily Dickinson
add a skeleton here at some point
about 1 month ago