Teachers
The first poem I recited on stage...And sucked ... One of those few times one of my teachers congratulated me nevertheless and walked me over to my seat. Quite interesting that I've seen I spiration in my high school English teachers. Teachers shape us. P.S: I sucked at self confidence until 8 years later in college. The Blind Beggar by Arthur Symons He stands, a patient figure, where the crowd Heaves to and fro; a sound is in his ears As of a vexed sea roaring, and he hears In darkness, as a dead man in his shroud. Patient he stands, with age and sorrow bowed, And holds a piteous hat of ancient years; And in his face and gesture there appears The desperate humbleness of poor men proud. What thoughts are his, as, with the inward sight, He sees the glad unheeding Fair go by? Is the long darkness darker for that light, And sorrow nearer when such mirth is nigh? Patient, alone, he stands from morn to night, Pleading in his reproachful misery.