| Author: | Howard Pyle | ISBN: | 1230002296845 |
| Publisher: | BookLife | Publication: | April 28, 2018 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Howard Pyle |
| ISBN: | 1230002296845 |
| Publisher: | BookLife |
| Publication: | April 28, 2018 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
I found myself in Twilight Land. How I ever got there I cannot tell, but there I was in Twilight Land.
What is Twilight Land? It is a wonderful, wonderful place where no sun shines to scorch your back as you jog along the way, where no rain falls to make the road muddy and hard to travel, where no wind blows the dust into your eyes or the chill into your marrow. Where all is sweet and quiet and ready to go to bed.
Where is Twilight Land? Ah! that I cannot tell you. You will either have to ask your mother or find it for yourself.
There I was in Twilight Land. The birds were singing their good–night song, and the little frogs were piping "peet, peet." The sky overhead was full of still brightness, and the moon in the east hung in the purple gray like a great bubble as yellow as gold. All the air was full of the smell of growing things. The high–road was gray, and the trees were dark.
I drifted along the road as a soap–bubble floats before the wind, or as a body floats in a dream. I floated along and I floated along past the trees, past the bushes, past the mill–pond, past the mill where the old miller stood at the door looking at me.
I floated on, and there was the Inn, and it was the Sign of Mother Goose.
I found myself in Twilight Land. How I ever got there I cannot tell, but there I was in Twilight Land.
What is Twilight Land? It is a wonderful, wonderful place where no sun shines to scorch your back as you jog along the way, where no rain falls to make the road muddy and hard to travel, where no wind blows the dust into your eyes or the chill into your marrow. Where all is sweet and quiet and ready to go to bed.
Where is Twilight Land? Ah! that I cannot tell you. You will either have to ask your mother or find it for yourself.
There I was in Twilight Land. The birds were singing their good–night song, and the little frogs were piping "peet, peet." The sky overhead was full of still brightness, and the moon in the east hung in the purple gray like a great bubble as yellow as gold. All the air was full of the smell of growing things. The high–road was gray, and the trees were dark.
I drifted along the road as a soap–bubble floats before the wind, or as a body floats in a dream. I floated along and I floated along past the trees, past the bushes, past the mill–pond, past the mill where the old miller stood at the door looking at me.
I floated on, and there was the Inn, and it was the Sign of Mother Goose.
