The Trumpet of the Swan - E. B. White
On the pond where the swans were, Louis put his trumpet away. The cygnets crept under their mother's wings. Darkness settled on woods and field and marsh. A loon called its wild night cry. As Louis relaxed and prepared for sleep, all his thoughts were of how lucky he had been to solve his problems with music, and how pleasant it was to look forward to another night of sleep and another day tomorrow, and the fresh morning, and the light that returns with the day.
Tren en esta cita
Tasa de esta cita:
3.2 out of 5
based on 31 ratings.
Edición Del Texto
o simplemente dejar un comentario: