Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein
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 end

Pasted from

There is a place where the towpath ends
And before the canal begins,
And there the flowers are fragile and white,
And there sun shines orange bright,
And there the seagull takes a break from flight
To breathe in the flowery wind.

Let us leave this place where the boats pile up
And the locks rise and fall.
Past the dock where the algaes grow
Our boat will drift with a drift that is measured and slow
And watch where the mile-markers go
To the place where the canal ends.

Yes we'll drift with a drift that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the mile-markers go,
For the surveyors, they've marked, and the surveyors, they know
The place where the canal ends.