I have shut my books and hidden my slate
And tossed my satchel across the gate.
My school is out for a summer of rest,
And now for the schoolroom I love the best!
My schoolroom lies on the meadow wide,
Where under the clover the sunbeams hide,
Where the long vines cling to the mossy bars
And the daisies twinkle like fallen stars.
My lessons are written in clouds and trees,
And no one whispers except the breeze,
That something blows- from a secret place-
A stray, sweet blossom against my face.
My teacher is patient and never yet,
A lesson of hers did I once forget,
For wonderful lore do her lips impart,
And all her lessons are learned by heart.
Oh come! Oh come! Or we shall be late,
And Autumn will fasten the golden gate.
Of the schoolrooms east or west,
The school of Nature I love the best.
-Katharine Lee Bates