Classic Poem

My books, you have made light the heavy time,
Have made me whole with strong, restoring thought;
By you I have been heartened and been taught
In noble prose, in high immortal rime.
You are mine oaken staff when I would climb,
Mine armor when the battle must be fought;
To you I owe the best that I have wrought,
Life's jarring bells lost in the larger chime.
In loneliness what faithful company!
In social hours, of comrades all the best,
Champions of hope and cheer, of right and truth.
Be closer yet along the way to be;
The farther that I journey toward the west
The oftener tent me by the wells of youth.