There are stars so high above us,
In the gardens of the skies,
That to reach them angel pinions
Must be given us to rise;
There are little stars around us,
Twinkling in the dewy grass,
That we may gather, twining
Wreaths and garlands as we pass;
Then shall we scorn these lower stars,
Nor heed what they may teach,
Because the stars above us
Are too high for us to reach?
We may wreathe earth's common blossoms
Into crowns of light and love,
Though we may not climb to gather
Those higher stars above.
