The Stream

The stream glimmers

with the gold of the sun,

the blue of the sky, 

the wing of the blackbird

flying by.

The wind through the

willows speaks to me

from the banks of the stream

that flows to the sea.

Through the willows it returns

as between the banks returns 

the stream.

A thousand years, 

a thousand more, 

the stream will glimmer 

with the gold of the sun,

the blue of the sky, 

the wing of the blackbird

flying by.

Poem Source


.