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By channels of coolness the echoes are calling,By channels of coolness the echoes are calling
By channels of coolness the echoes are calling, And down the dim gorges I hear the creek falling; It lives in the mountain, where moss and the sedges Touch with their beauty the banks and the ledges; Through brakes of the cedar and sycamore bowers Struggles the light that is love to the flowers. And, softer than slumber, and sweeter than singing, The notes of the bell-birds are running and ringing.
Through cool channels, the sounds are calling out, And I hear the stream falling down the dark valleys; It lives in the mountain, where moss and grass-like plants Add beauty to the banks and edges with their touch; Through cedar and sycamore thickets, Light fights its way through, loved by flowers. And, softer than sleep, and nicer than singing, The bell-birds' sounds are flowing and ringing.