Beneath the Boughs
Beneath the boughs here I sit,
Watching the waters stream by
Jagged rocks dot yon river bed,
Yet the waters ripple on.
Winding, meandering, undeterred,
Directly on their way, they go.
Discouraged not, nor wearied,
As o’er stony hurdles, they flow.
For, like us, these waters do move onward,