They Were Going Round And Round The

The Life Of Every Man Is A Diary In Which He Means To Write One Story, And Writes Another; And His Humblest Hour Is When He Compares The Volume As It Is With What He Vowed To Make It.

Of Course The Neverlands Vary A Good Deal. John's, For Instance, Had A Lagoon With Flamingos Flying Over It At Which John Was Shooting, While Michael, Who Was Very Small, Had A Flamingo With Lagoons Flying Over It. John Lived In A Boat Turned Upside Down On The Sands, Michael In A Wigwam, Wendy In A House Of Leaves Deftly Sewn Together. John Had No Friends, Michael Had Friends At Night, Wendy Had A Pet Wolf Forsaken By Its Parents.

On These Magic Shores Children At Play Are For Ever Beaching Their Coracles. We Too Have Been There; We Can Still Hear The Sound Of The Surf, Though We Shall Land No More.

Oh, You Mysterious Girls, When You Are Fifty-two We Shall Find You Out; You Must Come Into The Open Then. If The Mouth Has Fallen Sourly Yours The Blame: All The Meanness Your Youth Concealed Have Been Gathering In Your Face. But The Pretty Thoughts And Sweet Ways And Dear, Forgotten Kindnesses Linger There Also, To Bloom In Your Twilight Like Evening Primroses.

You Just Think Lovely Wonderful Thoughts," Peter Explained, "and They Lift You Up In The Air.