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