Here’s one of my favorite poems from childhood. I used to love hearing it read aloud as I drifted off to sleep, and it never occured to me that the ending of the poem is quite sad, as I was usually fast asleep by its end. I hope you hear some curious music this weekend. : ) xo, m
The Land of Nod
Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)
From breakfast on through all the day
At home among my friends I stay,
But every night I go abroad
Afar into the land of Nod.
All by myself I have to go,
With none to tell me what to do-
All alone beside the streams
And up the mountain-sides of dreams.
The strangest things are there for me,
Both things to eat and things to see,
And many frightening sights abroad
Till morning in the land of Nod.
Try as I like to find the way,
I never can get back by day,
Nor can remember plain and clear
The curious music that I hear.