By MARY R. DODGE DINGWALL.
We went to school, my dear old books and I—
Full twenty years ago, and miles away—
True, trusted friends from morn till twilight gray:
I held them dear, and could not put them by
When other work came in my strength to try;
Like blocks with which the child first learns to play,
I wanted them in sight both night and day.
Oft in my dreams with book in hand would I,
Unfettered, walk the longed-for upward way—
The pleasant path that leads up Science Hill;
But waking, knew for me it might not be;
God’s way is best, I truly tried to say,
When lo! a hand, a token of his will,
And on the outstretched hand I read, C. L. S. C.!