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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=428941" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Town Between the Hills</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The further the little girl leaped and ran,<br>The further she longed to be;<br>The white, white fields of jonquil flowers<br>Danced up as high as her knee<br>And flashed and sparkled before her eyes<br>Until she could hardly see.<br>So into the wood went she.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> It was quiet in the wood,<br>It was solemn and grave;<br>A sound like a wave<br>Sighed in the tree-tops<br>And then sighed no more.<br>But she was brave,<br>And the sky showed through<br>A bird's-egg blue,<br>And she saw<br>A tiny path that was running away<br>Over the hills to--who can say?<br>She ran, too.<br>But then the path broke,<br>Then the path ended<br>And wouldn't be mended.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> A little old man<br>Sat on the edge,<br>Hugging the hedge.<br>He had a fire<br>And two eggs in a pan<br>And a paper poke<br>Of pepper and salt;<br>So she came to a halt<br>To watch and admire:<br>Cunning and nimble was he!<br>&quot;May I help, if I can, little old man?&quot;<br>&quot;Bravo!&quot; he said,<br>&quot;You may dine with me.<br>I've two old eggs<br>From two white hens<br>and a loaf from a kind ladie:<br>Some fresh nutmegs,<br>Some cutlet ends<br>In pink and white paper frills:<br>And--I've--got<br>A little hot-pot<br>From the town between the hills.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> He nodded his head<br>And made her a sign<br>To sit under the spray<br>Of a trailing vine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But when the little girl joined her hands<br>And said the grace she had learned to say,<br>The little old man gave two dreadful squeals<br>And she just saw the flash of his smoking heels<br>As he tumbled, tumbled,<br>With his two old eggs<br>From two white hens,<br>His loaf from a kind ladie,<br>The fresh nutmegs,<br>The cutlet-ends<br>In the pink and white paper frills.<br>And away rumbled<br>The little hot-pot,<br>So much too hot,<br>From the ton between the hills.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Katherine+Mansfield">Katherine Mansfield</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=428941" data-title="The Town Between the Hills de Katherine Mansfield" data-description="The further the little girl leaped and ran,
The further she longed to be;
The white, white fields of jonquil flowers
Danced up as high as her knee
And flashed and sparkled before her eyes
Until she could hardly see.
So into the wood went she.

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