The wall is silence, the grass is sleep, Tall trees of peace their vigil keep, And the Fairy of Dreams with moth-wings furled. Plays soft on her flute to the drowsy world.
Ida Rentoul Outhwaite
2.
There is something magical in seeing what you can do, what texture and tone and colour you can produce merely with a pen point and a bottle of ink.
Ida Rentoul Outhwaite
3.
Then clear on a flute of purest gold A sweet little fairy played. And wonderful fairy tales she told and marvelous music made.
Ida Rentoul Outhwaite
4.
I used to find great difficulty in drawing feet.
Ida Rentoul Outhwaite
5.
I just had to plod along without having any teaching, which was a pity.