I Looked In The Brook And Saw A Face - Heigh-Ho, But A Child Was I! There Were Rushes And Willows In That Place, And They Clutched At The Brook As The Brook Ran By; And The Brook It Ran Its Own Sweet Way, As A Child Doth Run In Heedless Play, And As It Ran I Heard It Say: "Hasten With Me To The Roistering Sea That Is Wroth With The Flame Of The Morning Sky!" I Look In The Brook And See A Face - Heigh-Ho, But The Years Go By! The Rushes Are Dead In The Old-Time Place, And The Willows I Knew When A Child Was I. And The Brook It Seemeth To Me To Say, As Ever It Stealeth On Its Way - Solemnly Now, And Not In Play: "Oh, Come With Me To The Slumbrous Sea That Is Gray With The Peace Of The Evening Sky!" Heigh-Ho, But The Years Go By - I Would To God That A Child Were I!