Where Go the Boats?                                       -Robert Louis Stevenson

 

 

Dark brown is the river,

Golden is the sand.

It flows along for ever,

With trees on either hand.

 

Green leaves a-floating,

Castles of the foam,

Boats of mine a-boating-

Where will all come home?

 

On goes the river

And out past the mill,

Away down the valley,

Away down the hill.

 

Away down the river,

A hundred miles or more,

Other little children

Shall bring my boats ashore.


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