The following is a poem that was read during baccalaureate by Eliza Waggoner '08.

Do We Know the Light?

I am sitting in the small room with every one of you.

Books and numbers laid out before me.

I am listening to the lesson talk to me about the pages of these books,
about great heroes and fantastical solutions,
about the light of other men.

And I wonder if I know the light…

The stale air is loud inside my head,
as I walk out of the halls of progress and knowledge and order.

I stand among the arresting bricks, the blue rolling tongues of our hills,
silent trees and the thick dark Springfield sky.

And I know what I am here to learn.
What they were all trying to teach me.

Now I am in the classroom, that when I know the lamp-lit world
I will understand.

And the others, they are with me. You are with me, standing in this hollow,
learning the words that have been written across the sky,
learning to worship at your altar of the all around us.

And we are on the campus of the in between, here
on the edge of yesterday and next year, and forever,
on the edge of making a difference or just making it through the day.

And we’ve lit this broken bridge four years now.
And we’ve connected with the restless so that they could rest and feel less worthless.
And we’ve written our hearts on the stones of these halls with the passion of a thousand men.
And we’ve trailed the dull hum of the library home and back again.
And we’ve seen the face of God.
And we’ve learned,
and faith,
we’ve learned.

You might read about us one day, though it may only be in letters across the sky.

Yes, we know the light.
And faith, we’ve learned.
                                                                        ~ Eliza Waggoner