It's Not The Sort Of Night For

It's Not The Sort Of Night For Bed, Anyhow.

But Mole Stood Still A Moment, Held In Thought. As One Wakened Suddenly From A Beautiful Dream, Who Struggles To Recall It, But Can Recapture Nothing But A Dim Sense Of The Beauty In It, The Beauty! Till That, Too, Fades Away In Its Turn, And The Dreamer Bitterly Accepts The Hard, Cold Waking And All Its Penalties.

The Wild Wood Is Pretty Well Populated By Now; With All The Usual Lot, Good, Bad, And Indifferent--i Name No Names. It Takes All Sorts To Make A World.

Toad Talked Big About All He Was Going To Do In The Days To Come, While Stars Grew Fuller And Larger All Around Them, And A Yellow Moon, Appearing Suddenly And Silently From Nowhere In Particular, Came To Keep Them Company And Listen To Their Talk.

Well, Very Long Ago, On The Spot Where The Wild Wood Waves Now, Before Ever It Had Planted Itself And Grown Up To What It Now Is, There Was A City - A City Of People, You Know