Child. Traveler, what lies over the hill?
Traveler, tell to me.
I am only a child from the window sill,
Over I can not see.
Traveler. Child, there’s a valley over there,
Pretty and wooded and shy,
And a little brook that says, “Take care,
Or I’ll drown you by and by.”
Child. And what comes next?
Traveler. A little town
And a towering hill again;
More hills and valleys up and down
And a river now and then.
Child. And what comes next?
Traveler. A lonely moor
Without a beaten way;
And gray clouds sailing slow before
A wind that will not stay.
Child. And then?
Traveler. Dark rocks and yellow sand,
And a moaning sea beside.
Child. And then?