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complained as they escaped the open, windblown campus and moved through an eerie pine forest, looking for the cave. Charlie ran ahead as the others trudged slowly in the cold.
    “We’re almost there,” Knox said as they reached the bank of the stream and began searching for the cave that was supposed to exist somewhere among the tree roots and brush.
    “Yaa! I’m a dead poet!” Charlie shouted, suddenly popping out of nowhere. He had found the cave.
    “Ahh!” Meeks shrieked. “Eat it, Dalton,” Meeks said to Charlie, recovering his composure.
    “This is it, boys,” Charlie smiled. “We’re home!”
    The boys crowded into the dark cave and spent several minutes gathering sticks and wood, trying to light a fire. The fire came to life and warmed the barren interior. The boys stood silently, as if in a holy sanctuary.
    “I hereby reconvene the Welton Chapter of the Dead Poets Society,” Neil said solemnly. “These meetings will be conducted by me and by the rest of the new initiates now present. Todd Anderson, because he prefers not to read, will keep minutes of the meetings.” Todd winced as Neil spoke, unhappy but unable to speak up for himself.
    “I will now read the traditional opening message from society member Henry David Thoreau.” Neil opened the book that Keating had left him and read: “‘I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately.’” He skipped through the text. “T wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life!’”
    “I’ll second that!” Charlie interrupted.
    “To put to rout all that was not life,”‘ Neil continued, skipping again. “‘And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. ‘” There was a long silence.
    “Pledge Overstreet,” Neil said.
    Knox rose. Neil handed him the book. Knox found another page and read: “‘If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.’ Yes!” Knox said, his eyes blazing. “I want success with Chris!“
    Charlie took the book from Knox. “Come on, man,” he said, making a face at Knox, “this is serious.” Charlie cleared his throat.

    “There’s the wonderful love of a beautiful maid,
    And the love of a staunch, true man,
    And the love of a baby that’s unafraid.
    All have existed since time began.
    But the most wonderful love, the Love of all loves,
    Even greater than the love for Mother,
    Is the infinite, tenderest, passionate love,
    Of one dead drunk for another.”

    “Author anonymous,” Charlie laughed as he handed the book to Pitts.
    “‘Here lies my wife: here let her lie. Now she’s at rest... And so am I!’” Pitts giggled. “John Dryden, 1631-1700. I never thought those guys had a sense of humor!” he said.
    Pitts handed the book to Todd while the boys laughed at his joke. Todd froze, holding the book, and Neil quickly took it before the others noticed. Charlie grabbed the book from Neil and read:
    “Teach me to love? Go teach thyself more wit:
    I chief professor am of it.
    The god of love, If such a thing there be,
    May learn to love from me.“

    The boys “oohhed and aahhed” at Charlie’s alleged prowess. “Come on guys, we gotta be serious,” Neil said.
    Cameron took the book. “This is serious,” he said and began to read:

    “We are the music makers
    And we are the dreamers of dreams,
    Wandering by lonely sea-breakers,
    And sitting by desolate streams;
    World losers and world forsakers,
    On whom the pale moon gleams:
    Yet we are the movers and shakers
    Of the world, forever, it seems.
    With wonderful deathless ditties
    We build up with world’s great cities,
    And out of a fabulous story
    We fashion an empire’s glory:
    One man with a dream, at pleasure
    Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
    And three with a new song’s measure
    Can trample an empire down.
    We in the ages lying,
    In the buried past of the earth,
    Built Nineveh with our sighing,
    And Babel itself with our