Ellis Parker Butler

The Water Nymphs

They hide in the brook when I seek to draw nearer,
  Laughing amain when I feign to depart;
Often I hear them, now faint and now clearer—
  Innocent bold or so sweetly discreet.
Are they Nymphs of the Stream at their playing
  Or but the brook I mistook for a voice?
Little care I; for, despite harsh Time’s flaying,
  Brook voice or Nymph voice still makes me rejoice.