Where Go the Boats?
by 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.