"I shall rise tall as an elm in my grace--
I shall be clothed as catalpa is clad--
Poets shall crown me with lyrics of praise--
Lovers for lure of my blossoms go mad!"

Which shall it be, baby? Guess you at all?
Only I know in the lull of the year
You have said now where your choosing shall fall,
Only you have not yet heard yourself, dear.

So, like a mocking-bird, up in the trees,
I watching wondering where you have grown,
Borrow a note from a birdfellow's glees,
Fittest to sing you, and make it my own.

Only I know as I wonder, Karlene,
Singing up here where you think me a star,
Heaven's still above me, and some one serene
Laughs in the blue sky and knows what you are.




KARLENE.


Good-morning, Karlene. It's a very
Fine beautiful world we are in.
Well, you _do_ look as ripe as a berry;