Mangamiri.

The little singing streams go down,
And that's been said before;
But if you saw the place I know,
That runs with self same splash and flow
As little streams are wont to go.
Clear waters down a hillside's frown—
You'd smile at me no more.
The little singing streams go by,
And that's a tale that's told;
But Mangamiri water gleams
Like dearer waves we see in dreams;
I set apart from other streams
These cool brown drops that lift and lie
Above their speckled gold.
The little singing streams go past,
And that's a tale I've read;
But when the gay waves lift and cry
Above the stones, as they pass by,
(Round moss-grown stones embedded lie),
I see the sweetest stream at last
Run through its dreaming bed.
The little singing streams go down,
And that's been told again;
But I should like to say once more
There is no stream that I adore
(Clear waters on a dappled floor),
More than the Mangamiri brown
In sunshine or in rain.

Jenny Meadowsweet.