Robert Louis Stevenson - Where Go the Boats

Where Go the Boats? Dark brown is the river,
Golden is the sand;
It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.

Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-dodging,
Where shall we come home?

On goes the river,
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.

The river and the sky
Meet in a golden line,
But I sail on forever,
And knows not where I shine.