“An Invitation,” Friend, Nov. 1982, 8
A book can be an adventure all by itself
Into the times and lives of man.
Books are just waiting, stacked shelf upon shelf—
Read them! Read them! Oh, read all you can!
The time for discovering’s just begun;
All the heroes wait from centuries past.
A thousand summer hours of shade or sun
Will not diminish half the words amassed.
Doors will be opened, casements flung wide
To new beginnings; knowledge will expand
To far horizons on every side.
Your world will grow as you understand
The people you meet—foe and friend.
Books hold life—and joy without end.