The river

Where do you originate from, waterway sweet ?

Whence do your wavelets meander?

Is it a lake or a mountain brake,

Where pixies make their home ?

Is it a land where youngsters play

Or then again old people dream at close of day

Nay," said the river,whispering low ,It is from Babyland I stream! "

.

For what reason do you hustle, O stream armada ?

Can you not remain your stream,

Furthermore, drift me tenderly,soft and sweet,

Back to that place that is known for dream ?

Can we not turn and play afresh

In Babyland, as we played of yore ?

Nay," said the river,that may not be;

There's no returning for you or me ! "

.

Whither away, I cried once more,

Whither away, O stream armada ?

Do you rest finally when your excursion's past

In some lovely place that is known for dream?

is it a land that we may know,

Also, discover the tranquility of the long back?

Indeed, " said the river,a arrive that is blest;

'Tis the place that is known for affection and endless rest ! '