THE STREAMLET
by James W. Whilt
Tell me little streamlet,
As you onward flow;
Why in such a hurry,
Whither do you go?
The stream slowed up a moment
Within the alder's shade;
"I go to join my brothers,
And of us are rivers made.
We water the hills and meadows,
We turn the mills' great wheel,
We carry logs to the mill-dam,
Where they're cut by teeth of steel.
We furnish power for the motor
That pulls the railroad train;
And after they have used our power,
It is given back again.
So you see we enjoy working,
That's why we laugh all day,
For when one's heart is in one's work,
Why! work is greatest play!
And growing broader and deeper,
We carry ships on our breasts,
'Till at last we reach the ocean,
And there we have time to rest."
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