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.