Henry Wadsworth Longfellow — The Boy and the Brook

Down from yon distant mountain height        &nbsp The brooklet flows through the village street; A boy comes forth to wash his hands, Washing, yes washing, there he stands,        &nbsp In the water cool and sweet. Brook, from what mountain dost thou come,        &nbsp O my brooklet cool and sweet! I come from yon mountain high and cold, Where lieth the new snow on the old,        &nbsp And melts in the summer heat. Brook, to what river dost thou go?        &nbsp O my brooklet cool and sweet! I go to the river there below Where in bunches the violets grow,        &nbsp And sun and shadow meet. Brook, to what garden dost thou go?        &nbsp O my brooklet cool and sweet! I go to the garden in the vale Where all night long the nightingale        &nbsp Her love-song doth repeat. Brook, to what fountain dost thou go?        &nbsp O my brooklet cool and sweet! I go to the fountain at whose brink The maid that loves thee comes to drink, And whenever she looks therein, I rise to meet her, and kiss her chin,        &nbsp And my joy is then complete.