Classic Poem

Look at this brook, so blithe, so free!
Thus hath it been, fair boy, for ever —
A shining, dancing, babbling river;
And thus 'twill ever be.
'Twill run, from mountain to the main,
With just the same sweet babbling voice
That now sings out. " Rejoice — rejoice! "
Perhaps 'twill be a chain
That will a thousand years remain —
Aye, through all times and changes last,
And link the present to the past.
Perhaps upon this self-same spot,
Hereafter, may a merry knot
(My children's children) meet and play,
And think on me , some summer day;
And smile (perhaps through youth's brief tears,
While thinking back through wastes of years,)
And softly say —
" 'Twas here the old man used to stray,
And gaze upon the sky; and dream
(Long, long ago!) by this same stream.
He 's in his grave! Ungentle Time
Hath dealt but harshly with his rhyme;
But We will ne'er forget, that he
Taught us to love this river free. "