THE BEGINNING.
Here is the beginning of the road;And it’s morning on the hill-top in the sky;And there’s mist across the valley to hide the Shining Way,That’s full of other children and happy hours of play,Where Dorothy will travel by and by.The air is full of voices strange and sweet,That crowd around her cradle as it swings.She thinks they’re made of something white that shimmers on the grass,For she doesn’t know a dew-drop from the bobolinks that pass,And she doesn’t know a host of other things.
Here is the beginning of the road;And it’s morning on the hill-top in the sky;And there’s mist across the valley to hide the Shining Way,That’s full of other children and happy hours of play,Where Dorothy will travel by and by.The air is full of voices strange and sweet,That crowd around her cradle as it swings.She thinks they’re made of something white that shimmers on the grass,For she doesn’t know a dew-drop from the bobolinks that pass,And she doesn’t know a host of other things.
Here is the beginning of the road;And it’s morning on the hill-top in the sky;And there’s mist across the valley to hide the Shining Way,That’s full of other children and happy hours of play,Where Dorothy will travel by and by.
Here is the beginning of the road;
And it’s morning on the hill-top in the sky;
And there’s mist across the valley to hide the Shining Way,
That’s full of other children and happy hours of play,
Where Dorothy will travel by and by.
The air is full of voices strange and sweet,That crowd around her cradle as it swings.She thinks they’re made of something white that shimmers on the grass,For she doesn’t know a dew-drop from the bobolinks that pass,And she doesn’t know a host of other things.
The air is full of voices strange and sweet,
That crowd around her cradle as it swings.
She thinks they’re made of something white that shimmers on the grass,
For she doesn’t know a dew-drop from the bobolinks that pass,
And she doesn’t know a host of other things.