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.”

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.

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.”

“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.”

April, 1901.

 INDIAN SUMMER

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