OUR STREET


"Our street is still and silent,
Grass grows from curb to curb,

No baker's bells
With jangling knells
Our studious minds disturb.
No organ grinders ever call,
No hucksters mar our peace;
For traffic shuns our neighborhood
And leaves us to our ease.


But now it lives and brightens,
Assumes a livelier hue;
The pavements wide,
On either side,
Would seem to feel it too.
You might not note the difference,
The change from grave to gay,
But I can tell, and know full well,
Priscilla walks our way."



Shortly after his return to college Richard celebrated his
nineteenth birthday, and received these letters from his
father and mother: