Whither?
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
From Müller.
(Translations from the German.)
I heard a brooklet gushing
From its rocky fountain near,
Down into the valley rushing,
So fresh and wondrous clear.
Iknow not what came o'er me,
Nor who the counsel gave;
But I must hasten downward,
All with my pilgrim-stave.
Downward, and ever farther,
And ever the brook beside;
And ever fresher murmured,
And ever clearer, the tide.
Is this the way I was going?
Whither, O brooklet, say!
Thou hast, with thy soft murmur,
Murmured my senses away.
What do I say of a murmur?
That can no murmur be;
'Tis the water-nymphs, that are singing
Their roundelays under me.
Let them sing, my friend, let them murmur,
And wander merrily near;
The wheels of a mill are going
In every brooklet clear.
Source:
Longfellow's Poetical WorksCopyright 1893
Henry Frowde, London