Explore "Four Winds Farm" by Mary Louisa Molesworth on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"Purple and azure, white and green and golden, and they whirl / Over each other with a thousand motions. " / _Prometheus Unbound._ -- SHELLEY
He dreamt that he awoke, and found himself not in his comfortable bed in his own room, but in an equally comfortable but much more uncommon bed in a very different place. Out on the moor! He opened his eyes and stared about him in surprise; there were the stars, up overhead, all blinking and winking at him as if asking what business a little boy had out there among them all in the middle of the night. And when he did find out where he was, he felt still more surprised at being so warm and cozy. For he felt perfectly so, even though he had neither blankets nor sheets nor pillow, but instead of all these a complete nest of the softest moss all about him. He was lying on it, and it covered him over as perfectly as a bird is covered by its feathers.