This was published in The Prescott [Arizona] Evening Courier on Monday, July 31, 1933, page 4, column 3:

Sang a pretty brooklet dancing down the dell,
"I must haste, sweet flowers, though I love you well.
Soon I'll be a river rushing to the sea.
What a happy moment that will be for me."

So it leaped in sunlight past its playmates there,
Pausing not to answer greetings bright and fair.
Growing prouder, grander, hushed its laugh of glee,
'Twas a mighty river rushing to the sea.