"Brooklet" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... an elf, right beauteous to behold, Whose coat was like a brooklet that the sun Hath all embroider'd with its crooked gold, It was so quaintly wrought and overrun With spangled traceries,—most meet for one That was a warden of the pearly streams;— And as he stept out of the shadows dun, His jewels sparkled in the pale moon's gleams, ...
— The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood • Thomas Hood
... the sea, And to our hemisphere retir'd. Perchance To shun him was the vacant space left here By what of firm land on this side appears, That sprang aloof." There is a place beneath, From Belzebub as distant, as extends The vaulted tomb, discover'd not by sight, But by the sound of brooklet, that descends This way along the hollow of a rock, Which, as it winds with no precipitous course, The wave hath eaten. By that hidden way My guide and I did enter, to return To the fair world: and heedless of repose We climbed, he first, I following his steps, ...
— The Divine Comedy • Dante
... roam o'er hill and dale, In calm or storm or windy gale, I love the valley and the hill, The brooklet and the running rill, I love ...
— The Rover Boys on the Farm - or Last Days at Putnam Hall • Arthur M. Winfield (AKA Edward Stratemeyer)
... capture; and they would have often been in a sad plight. Our knowledge of the field of operations proved our salvation on more than one occasion, and was at the bottom of some successes achieved over the enemy. To know every mountain, hill, river, brooklet, valley, or donga is to be forearmed. The general that knows the battlefield is infinitely better off than the one that does not. He knows precisely how and when to lead an attack, or what to do when unexpectedly attacked. Now the Boer ...
— In the Shadow of Death • P. H. Kritzinger and R. D. McDonald
... caught, and poured little persistent streams upon us. The chief of these streams, from the point of size, seemed consciously aiming at my ear. Thirce I turned over, shifted my position; thrice I was awakened by the sound of a merry brooklet pouring into ...
— The River and I • John G. Neihardt
... sang and knitted, Tim Tim ran down the tiny path made by the woodfolk, past the bubbling spring and around the bend in the bank of the tumbling brooklet until he came to his home, which was another hole in the trunk of an ...
— Friendly Fairies • Johnny Gruelle
... ahead, paying no heed to his lamentations. He left the plain behind him and came up into desolate and wild forest regions. Here the road was bad, almost like a stony and burr-strewn path, with neither bridge nor plank to help them over brooklet and rivulet. The farther they rode, the colder it grew, and after a while ...
— Christmas in Legend and Story - A Book for Boys and Girls • Elva S. Smith
... foliage. The air was burdened with perfume. High above the sombre umbrage rose slender snowy spires, around which the moonbeams lingered lovingly. He left the little skiff and trod the terraced ascent. A meandering brooklet, tributary of the larger stream, was spanned by fairy-like bridges. He hesitated among the intersecting ways, mazy, enchanting, and flower-bordered. The living air was full of subdued sound. Bubbling ...
— Atma - A Romance • Caroline Augusta Frazer
... But the tower is still grey, and has looked unchanged over the Axe estuary for hundreds of years. Turning up from the main street is a Devonshire lane eight feet wide or thereabouts. It ascends to a farm on the hillside, and its steep high banks are covered with ferns and primroses. A tiny brooklet twitters down by its side. At the top of the down is a line of old hawthorns blown slantingly by south-west storms into a close, solid mass of shoots and prickles. They are dwarfed in their struggle, but have thick trunks, many of them ...
— More Pages from a Journal • Mark Rutherford
... deep-eyed, light and slender, shy of mien and slight of frame. Like a laughing brook she skipped to and fro along the strand; He was grave, like nodding fern-leaf, gently by the breezes fanned, Which in silence, Pensive silence, Grows upon the brooklet's sand, ...
— Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science - April, 1873, Vol. XI, No. 25. • Various
... slender stream of water that escaped from the brow of a cliff on the American side below the Falls, and spun itself into a gauze of silvery mist, "that's the Bridal Veil; and I suppose you think the stream, which is making such a fine display, yonder, is some idle brooklet, ending a long course of error and worthlessness by that spectacular plunge. It's nothing of the kind; it's an honest hydraulio canal, of the most straightforward character, a poor but respectable ...
— Henry James, Jr. • William Dean Howells
... in other curves, curious, narrow glens are found. Through these we climb, by a rough stairway, perhaps several hundred feet, to where a spring bursts out from under an overhanging cliff, and where cottonwoods and willows stand, while along the curves of the brooklet oaks grow, and other rich vegetation is seen, in marked contrast to the general appearance of naked rock. We call ...
— Canyons of the Colorado • J. W. Powell
... a merry voice Forth from those lips of rose, As tireless through its fringing flowers The tuneful brooklet flows, ...
— Man of Uz, and Other Poems • Lydia Howard Sigourney
... stream, their course extended for a mile through a thick wood, but soon they came to the open country, with undulating fields, rolling toward a little valley through which a brooklet ran. And beyond that stream, among the trees and foliage which line its bank and extend in wooded patches southward, the left wing of the enemy are ...
— Fort Lafayette or, Love and Secession • Benjamin Wood
... Sometimes a dead fish was cast up. A ledge of rocks, with a beacon upon it, looking like a monument erected to those who have perished by shipwreck. The smoked, extempore fireplace, where a party cooked their fish. About midway on the beach, a fresh-water brooklet flows towards the sea. Where it leaves the land, it is quite a rippling little current; but, in flowing across the sand, it grows shallower and more shallow, and at last is quite lost, and dies in the effort to carry its ...
— Passages From The American Notebooks, Volume 1 • Nathaniel Hawthorne |
