large/5152/brushwoodboy_1111_librivox_64kb_mp3/brushwoodboy_04_kipling_64kb_105
large/5152/brushwoodboy_1111_librivox_64kb_mp3/brushwoodboy_04_kipling_64kb
English
5152
— We must go back with Policeman Day— Back from the City of Sleep! Over the edge of the purple down, Ere the tender dreams begin, Look—we may look—at the Merciful Town, But we may not enter in! WE MUST GO BACK WITH POLICEMAN DAY BACK FROM THE CITY OF SLEEP OVER THE EDGE OF THE PURPLE DOWN ERE THE TENDER DREAMS BEGIN LOOK WE MAY LOOK AT THE MERCIFUL TOWN BUT WE MAY NOT ENTER IN
r in his own particular chair, the mother in hers, and the back of a girl at the piano by the big potpourri-jar. The gardens looked half divine in the moonlight, and he turned down through the roses to finish his pipe. A prelude ended, and there floated out a voice of the kind that in his childhood he used to call “creamy” a full, true contralto; and this is the song that he heard, every syllable of it: Over the edge of the purple down, Where the single lamplight gleams, Know ye the road to the Merciful Town That is hard by the Sea of Dreams— Where the poor may lay their wrongs away, And the sick may forget to weep? But we—pity us!Oh, pity us! We wakeful; ah, pity us!— We must go back with Policeman Day— Back from the City of Sleep! Weary they turn from the scroll and crown, Fetter and prayer and plough They that go up to the Merciful Town, For her gates are closing now. It is their right in the Baths of Night Body and soul to steep But we—pity us! ah, pity us! We wakeful; oh, pity us! COMFYING THERE HE COULD SEE HIS FATHER IN HIS OWN PARTICULAR CHAIR THE MOTHER IN HERS AND THE BACK OF A GIRL AT THE PIANO BY THE BIG POPERY JAR THE GARDENS LOOKED HALF DIVINE IN THE MOONLIGHT AND HE TURNED DOWN THROUGH THE ROSES TO FINISH HIS PIPE A PRELUDE ENDED AND THERE FLOATED OUT A VOICE OF THE KIND THAT IN HIS CHILDHOOD HE USED TO CALL CREAMY A FULL TRUE CONTRALTO AND THIS WAS THE SONG THAT HE HEARD EVERY SYLLABLE OF IT OVER THE EDGE OF THE PURPLE DOWN WHERE THE SINGLE LAMPLIGHT GLEAMS KNOW YE THE ROAD TO THE MERCIFUL TOWN THAT IS HARD BY THE SEA OF DREAMS WHERE THE POOR MAY LAY THEIR WRONGS AWAY AND THE SICK MAY FORGET TO WEEP BUT WE PITEOUS O PITEOUS WE WAKEFUL ARE PITEOUS WE MUST GO BACK WITH POLICEMAN DAY BACK FROM THE CITY OF SLEEP WEARY THEY TURN FROM THE SCROLL AND CROWN FETTER AND PRAYER AND PLOUGH THEY THAT GO UP TO THE MERCIFUL TOWN FOR HER GATES ARE CLOSING NOW IT IS THE RIGHT IN THE BATHS OF NIGHT BODY AND SOUL TO STEEP BUT WE PITEOUS ARE PITEOUS WE WAKEFUL OR PITEOUS
large/5152/brushwoodboy_1111_librivox_64kb_mp3/brushwoodboy_04_kipling_64kb
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