From Eastern Sources. The Boy and the Brook

DOWN from yon distant mountain height

The brooklet flows through the village street;

A boy comes forth to wash his hands,

Washing, yes, washing, there he stands,

In the water cool and sweet.

Brook, from what mountain dost thou come?

O my brooklet cool and sweet!

I come from yon mountain high and cold

Where lieth the new snow on the old,

And melts in the summer heat.

Brook, to what river dost thou go?

O my brooklet cool and sweet!

I go to the river there below

Where in bunches the violets grow,

And sun and shadow meet.

Brook, to what garden dost thou go?

O my brooklet cool and sweet!

I go to the garden in the vale

Where all night long the nightingale

Her love-song doth repeat.

Brook, to what fountain dost thou go?

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,

And my joy is then complete.