Reaching for the river is a flower,
I saw it tumble down from soil to rock,
Let it roll and swim away yonder,
Meets the great sea again all to lock,
The sound is what I see but n’er heard,
Brings me back to the times I saw,
Finds me a dear amongst the herd,
I’m sighting a flower amongst the four,
Then I’ll plant another for more,
Give me a penny for a flower, lo,
Well, I’m finding myself wondering more:
Where did that flower in the river go?
Then I saw it amidst and observed,
Who knew not that nature has sought,
Then spoke the gales that served
Me a sight in an absolute still lot,
Then flowered and soon I walked past,
Along the river was the same flower,
That which gave me memory of the last,
It was I, my dear, looking for a flower.
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