Teacher poems

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23

The Toad

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Then also was it that that child with the stone,
He who now tells this story, from his hands
Let the flag drop. A voice had cried to him
Too loud for denial: ``Fool. Be merciful.''

"My teacher wasn't half as nice as yours seems to be"

"My teacher wasn't half as nice as yours seems to be.
His name was Mister Unsworth and he taught us history.
And when you didn't know a date he'd get you by the ear
And start to twist while you sat there quite paralysed with fear.

Times Changes In A Household

© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

They were as fair and bright a band as ever filled with pride
Parental hearts whose task it was children beloved to guide;
And every care that love upon its idols bright may shower
Was lavished with impartial hand upon each fair young flower.

Tale XXI

© George Crabbe

rise;
Not there the wise alone their entrance find,
Imparting useful light to mortals blind;
But, blind themselves, these erring guides hold out
Alluring lights to lead us far about;
Screen'd by such means, here Scandal whets her

Isla Mujeres

© William Matthews

The shoal we saw from the boat was fish;

it parted as I dove through, and formed

The Voice

© Sheldon Allan Silverstein

There is a voice inside of you
that whispers all day long,
"I feel that this is right for me,
I know that this is wrong."

My Wife

© Robert Louis Stevenson

Trusty, dusky, vivid, true,
With eyes of gold and bramble-dew,
Steel-true and blade-straight,
The great artificer
Made my mate.

To My Old Readers

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

Nor be forgotten our ANNEXES twain,
Nor HE, the owner of the squinting brain,
Which, while its curious fancies we pursue,
Oft makes us question, "Are we crack-brained too?"

Book Tenth {Residence in France continued]

© William Wordsworth

IT was a beautiful and silent day

That overspread the countenance of earth,

The Vaudois Teacher

© John Greenleaf Whittier

"O Lady fair, these silks of mine

are beautiful and rare,-

The Dean Of Santiago

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

The Dean of Santiago on his mule

Rode quick the Guadalquivir banks along,

On Old Man's Thought Of School

© Walt Whitman

And these I see-these sparkling eyes,
These stores of mystic meaning-these young lives,
Building, equipping, like a fleet of ships-immortal ships!
Soon to sail out over the measureless seas,
On the Soul's voyage.

Father Death Blues

© Allen Ginsberg

Hey Father Death, I'm flying home
Hey poor man, you're all alone
Hey old daddy, I know where I'm going

Broken Song

© Rabindranath Tagore

Kasinath asks for a rest and the singing stops for a space.
Pratap Ray smilingly turns his eyes to Baraj Lal.
He puts his mouth to his ear and says, 'Dear ustad,
Give us a song as songs ought to be, this is no song at all.
It's all tricks and games, like a cat hunting a bird.
We used to hear songs in the old days, today they have no idea.'

The Poor Of The Borough. Letter XX: Ellen Orford

"No charms she now can boast,"--'tis true,

But other charmers wither too:

Tale XIX

THE CONVERT.

Some to our Hero have a hero's name

Palinodia

Ye mountains, on whose torrent-furrowed slopes,
And bare and silent brows uplift to heaven,
I envied oft the soul which fills your wastes
Of pure and stern sublime, and still expanse
Unbroken by the petty incidents
Of noisy life: Oh hear me once again!