Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The brooklet came from the mountain,
  As sang the bard of old,
Running with feet of silver
  Over the sands of gold!

Far away in the briny ocean
  There rolled a turbulent wave,
Now singing along the sea-beach,
  Now howling along the cave.

And the brooklet has found the billow
  Though they flowed so far apart,
And has filled with its freshness and sweetness
  That turbulent bitter heart!