Saturday 29 January 2011

Chris Port Blog #71. An Idle Teacher Foresees His Death.

(with apologies to W.B. Yeats)
© Chris Port, 2010

I know that I shall meet my mate
Somewhere among the rowdy pubs;
Those that I teach I do not hate,
Those that I reach I sometimes love;
My college is a county school,
My college kids the county’s fools,
No policy could bring them rule
Or leave them happier than a drool.
Nor law, nor duty bade me teach,
Nor public pay, nor swearing mums,
A lowly impulse need to preach
Drove to this tedium in the slums;
I balanced bills, brought all to cost,
Careers to come seemed strange to think
How strange to think careers now lost
In balance with this fag, this drink.

1 comment:

  1. AN IRISH AIRMAN FORESEES HIS DEATH
    by William Butler Yeats, 1919

    I know that I shall meet my fate
    Somewhere among the clouds above;
    Those that I fight I do not hate,
    Those that I guard I do not love;
    My country is Kiltartan Cross,
    My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
    No likely end could bring them loss
    Or leave them happier than before.
    Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
    Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
    A lonely impulse of delight
    Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
    I balanced all, brought all to mind,
    The years to come seemed waste of breath,
    A waste of breath the years behind
    In balance with this life, this death.

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