Kissed by the sun, or with big, bright stars above you,--
I murmur your name and lift up mine eyes to the hills.

Pasadena, March, 1913.




SCHOOL

I put my heart to school
In the world where men grow wise:
"Go out," I said, "and learn the rule;
'Come back when you win a prize.'"

My heart came back again:
"Now where is the prize?" I cried.--
"The rule was false, and the prize was pain,
And the teacher's name was Pride."

I put my heart to school
In the woods where veeries sing
And brooks run clear and cool,
In the fields where wild flowers spring.

"And why do you stay so long
My heart, and where do you roam?"
The answer came with a laugh and a song,--
"I find this school is home."