There is a place where the
sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows
soft and white,
And there the sun burns
crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests
from his flight
To cool in the peppermint
wind.
Let us leave this place where
the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and
bends.
Past the pits where the
asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk
that is measured and slow,
And watch where the
chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the
sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk
that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the
chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark,
and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk
ends.