And the world will look at me;
While you will bubble and babble on
And die at last in the sea."
"So proud and lofty," the stream replied,
"You're a king of the forest true;
But your roots were dead and your leaves all dried
Had I not watered you."
The oak tree rustled its leaves of green
To the little stream below;
"'Tis only a snowbank's tears, I ween,