"The world turns softly
Not to spill its lakes and rivers.
The water is held in its arms
And the sky is held in the water."

School lessons, and a reflection in a pond--
that is the stuff of which all poetry is made. It
is the fusion which shows the quality of the poet.
Turn to the text and read "Geography." Really,
this is an extraordinary child!

It is pleasant to watch her with the artist's
eagerness intrigued by the sounds of words, for
instance:

"--silvery lonesome lapping of the long wave."

Again, enchanted by a little bell of rhyme, we have
this amusing catalogue:

"John-flowers,
Mary-flowers,
Polly-flowers
Cauli-flowers."

That is the conscious Hilda, the gay little girl,
but it shows a quick ear nevertheless. We can
almost hear the giggle with which that "Cauli-
flowers" came out. Usually rhyme does not