Classic Poem

It does not care for grandeur,
And it does not care for state,
It flips its little fingers.
In the very face of fate;
And when its course is thwarted
Its current set at bay,
It just kicks up its saucy heels
And takes another way.

It laughs among the monarchs,
It giggles at the kings.
It dances in the gorges,
While a comic song it sings;
It ripples into waterfalls,
It tipples into spray,
And when they raise their eyebrows up
It — takes another way.

It does not care a button
For the granite or the rocks.
It never gets discouraged,
For it's never in a box.
When mountains contradict it,
And canyons have their say,
It kicks a little higher,
And — takes another way.