When the poet was Child, after reading story books, he crawled along the wall. He imagined that he was in a forest in the evening. He thought that none could spy him and he was lied in his hunter's camp. In the forest those were hills and those were woods. He was in his starry solitudes. There were roaring lions who came to drink water at the brink of the river. He saw some enemies were very far in a camp. He like an Indian scout covered them.
Then it was time to go to bed. So his mother came near him behind the sofa to make him sleep. He went to bed with backward looks at his dear land of his Story-books.
Really childhood is a sweet memory.
Негізгі бет The Land of Story-books (Poem)
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