there is a place where the sidewalk ends & before the street begins, & there the grass grows
soft & white
& there the sun burns
crimson bright
& there the moon-bird rests
from his flight
to cool in the peppermint wind.
let us leave this place where the smoke blows black & the dark street winds & bends. past the pits where the
asphalt flowers grow
we shall walk with a walk that is
measured & slow
& watch where the chalk white
arrows go
to the place where the sidewalk ends. yes we'll walk with a walk that is
measured & slow
& we'll go where the chalk white
arrows go
for the children, they mark,
& the children, they know
the place where the sidewalk ends.