Daily Kennebec Journal

Just on the forest skirts the plain
An open book lies on the grass,
And there for years untouched has
The leaves are yellow now with age
But one may read in letters free,
As the wind turns the ragged page
The blotted name—Philosophy

'Tis said a student one day stood
Outside the bounds, where on him fell
The mystic power of that wood.
And love cast over him a spell.
Then long he strove to enter there;
But guardian spirits in array
Prevented him, until despair
Had made him throw the book away.
And then, when he at length had cast
The stern Philosophy aside,
Love bade him enter—held him fast
As conqueror of Self and Pride.
And now in dim, enchanted nooks
Ruled by a love that never fails,
He seeks not sympathy of books
Love whispers to him fairy tales.

Outside, swept by the wind and rain,
Philosophy, uncared for, lies;
It cannot enter Love's domain;
It was not meant for paradise.

—Flavel Scott Mines in Harper's Weekly