Classic Poem

From a beautiful lake on the mountain
Two rivulets came down,
Prattling awhile to the violets,
Mid shadows green and brown.

Over beds of golden lustre,
Around by rock and tree,
They sang the same tune with their silvery tongues,
And clapped their hands in glee.

Over rocks with mosses mantled,
They eddied and whirled, like a waltzing pair,
Till, hand in hand, with laughter and leap
They mingled their misty hair.

Over the self-same ledges,
Singing the self-same tune,
They passed from April to breezy May,
Toward the fields of June.

They whirled, and danced, and dallied,
And through the meadows slid,
Till under the same thick grass and flowers
Their further course was hid!

I saw two beautiful children
Of one fair mother born,
Playing among the dewy buds
That bloomed beneath the morn.

The same in age and beauty,
The same in voice and size,
The same bright hair upon their necks,
The same shade in their eyes.

Singing the same song ever
In the self-same silvery tune,
They passed from April into May,
Toward the fields of June.

They whirled, and danced, and dallied
The beautiful vales amid,
Till under the same thick leaves and flowers
Their future course was hid.