Born on some distant mountain top,

A happy wanderer from its birth,

From stone to stone with merry laugh

It dances o’er its mother earth.

Then with some gathering streamlet meets,

With bubbling laughter on they fling

Their glittering sprays through sweet retreats,

And cool abodes of sylvan king.

The mighty river next appears,

And to its arms the youngsters race,

Then separate with baby tears,

While current marshalls each in place.

And last the ocean heaves in view,

Then dies for aye the streamlet’s span;

Death is the ocean, all life through,

Whose outstretched arms wait every man.