And the last big town we came to was San Francisco.
Life, there, was fine, only Anna felt so tired
And grew envious of others:
Of those who pass the time at their ease and in comfort;
Those too proud to be bought,
Of those whose wrath is kindled by injustice,
Those who act upon their impulses happily,
Lovers true to their loved ones,
And those who take what they need without shame;
Whereupon I told my poor tired sister,
When I saw how much she envied them:
"Sister, from birth we may write our own story,
And anything we choose we are permitted to do,
But the proud and insolent who strut in their glory