Why hurry, little river, on your journey to the sea?
Just linger where the lilies are along the shores with me.
And all the flowers of April, how they beckon you to stay,
And I who am your lover too - but still you run away!
Ah, your journey is like mine, little river; while we go.
We must work and serve and carry and part from friends you know.
Yes, from those we love the most, we must hurry to our fate,
There to suffer our sea changes for Time and Tide won't wait.
Gordon Stace-Smith
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