To Be Grown Up Is To Sit

Beautiful As A Dandelion-blossom, Golden In The Green Grass, This Life Can Be. Common As A Dandelion-blossom, Beautiful In The Clean Grass, Not Beautiful Because Common, Beautiful Because Beautiful, Noble Because Common, Because Free.

But Far, Oh, Far As Passionate Eye Can Reach, And Long, Ah, Long As Rapturous Eye Can Cling, The World Is Mine: Blue Hill, Still Silver Lake, Broad Field, Bright Flower, And The Long White Road A Gateless Garden, And An Open Path: My Feet To Follow, And My Heart To Hold.

We Are All Ruled In What We Do By Impulses; And These Impulses Are So Organized That Our Actions In General Serve For Our Self Preservation And That Of The Race.

Earth Does Not Understand Her Child, Who From The Loud Gregarious Town Returns, Depleted And Defiled, To The Still Woods, To Fling Him Down.

All My Life, Following Care Along The Dusty Road, Have I Looked Back On Loveliness And Sighed.