Monday, December 5, 2016


Now, as my teaching time draws to a close,
At least for now, I wonder what each knows
Who sat in classes taught of verse and prose
That were assigned to me across the days
That soon are ending. I wonder if the plays
I talked about with them, or the forays
Into the writings of the world, or pages
That have proceeded from their pens for ages
As it seems now, as on the grading rages,
Have been of good effect for those I've taught.
I wonder if I have done as I've ought,
Or if, instead, my efforts are for naught.
The kind of work I do may not yield fruit,
And its harvest comes often late, to boot.

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