"So the children went on because they did not know what else to do. They
found the way very rough and difficult, the tree was so full of humps and
hollows. Now and then they plashed into a pool of rain; now and then they
came upon twigs growing out of the trunk where they had no business, and
they were as large as full-grown poplars. Sometimes they came upon great
cushions of soft moss, and on one of them they lay down and rested. But
they had not lain long before they spied a large nightingale sitting on a
branch, with its bright eyes looking up at the moon. In a moment more he
began to sing, and the birds about him began to reply, but in a very
different tone from that in which they had replied to the owl. Oh, the
birds did call the nightingale such pretty names! The nightingale sang,
and the birds replied like this:--
"I will sing a song.
I'm the nightingale.'
'Sing a song, long, long,
Little Neverfail!
What will you sing about,
Light in or light out?'
'Sing about the light
Gone away;
Down, away, and out of sight--
Poor lost day!
Mourning for the day dead,
O'er his dim bed.
Pages:
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59