Stay, rivulet, nor haste to leave <br />The lovely vale that lies around thee. <br />Why wouldst thou be a sea at eve, <br />When but a fount the morning found thee? <br /> <br />Born when the skies began to glow, <br />Humblest of all the rock's cold daughters, <br />No blossom bowed its stalk to show <br />Where stole thy still and scanty waters. <br /> <br />Now on thy stream the noonbeams look, <br />Usurping, as thou downward driftest, <br />Its crystal from the clearest brook, <br />Its rushing current from the swiftest. <br /> <br />Ah! what wild haste!--and all to be <br />A river and expire in ocean. <br />Each fountain's tribute hurries thee <br />To that vast grave with quicker motion. <br /> <br />Far better 'twere to linger still <br />In this green vale, these flowers to cherish, <br />And die in peace, an aged rill, <br />Than thus, a youthful Danube, perish.<br /><br />William Cullen Bryant<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-the-spanish-of-pedro-de-castro-y-anaya/
