Bent to be it knew not where.
It had no rest in delay;
And for its haste it had no aim;
Wherefore go? But wherefore stay?
Here and there led both the same;
By any winding it could make
Near its secret goal it came.
When it reached the crystal lake
It knew its aim and found its rest;
All the miles were for love’s sake.
Mid the blue hills of the west
Our river lies in the lake’s breast.
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