The day is done, the day is done, And all the troubles of the day! The long last crimson of the sun Is melting into silver gray. The old world slowly fades from view, Within another world we stand, And all is strange and all is new, For this, for this is Twilight-land. Children, who read these little rhymes, Out of the Twilight-land sent clear, There’s many a one in these hurrying times, Has not the time, like you, to hear.…
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