. At early candle light and other poems. THE BROOK THE BROOK i43 When the heat is heavy on all the land, Deep in the shady pond,And from all the hives the buskined beesFly out to the orchard to rifle and teaseTheir sweets from the spreading apple-trees On yellowing hills beyond. And when all oblivious it hath flowed,By the pasture-field and the winding road,To the doorway of many a cot, and showed Its cheery, laughing face;And reluctant, slow, it comes to the I wonder if ever it turns like me,To the ancient room and the locust tree. And thinks of its old

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