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.