The Youth and the Streamlet

Down from yon distant mountain
The streamlet finds its way,
And through the quiet village
It flows in eddying play.

A dark youth left his doorway,
And sought the water-side,
And, laving there his hands and brow,
“O streamlet sweet!” he cried,

“Say, from what mountain com’st thou?”
“From yonder mountain cold
Where snow on snow lies sleeping,
The new snow on the old.”

“Unto what river, tell me,
Fair streamlet, dost thou flow?”
“I flow unto that river
Where clustering violets grow.”

“Sweet streamlet, to what vineyard,
Say, dost thou take thy way?”
“The vineyard where the vine-dresser
Is at his work to-day.”

“What plant where wilt thou water?”
“The plant upon whose roots
The lambs feed, where the wind-flower blooms,
And orchards bear sweet fruits.”

“What garden wilt thou visit,
O water cool and fleet?”
“The garden where the nightingale
Sings tenderly and sweet.”

“Into what fountain flow’st thou?”
“The fountain to whose brink
Thy love comes down at morn and eve,
And bends her face to drink.

“There shall I meet the maiden
Who is to be thy bride,
And kiss her chin, and with her love
My soul be satisfied.”

The Youth and the Streamlet