|Geoffrey Chaucer, 1343-1400|
Y is for Yclept Yeager, Dr. Robert
I like to give credit where credit is due.
That the credit is late doesn't (shouldn't?) matter to you.
You taught me from texts with English archaic
My papers, at first, you considered prosaic
The poets you said you admired were dead,
But you brought them to life with a nod of your head
The books that you held in the palm of your hand
Transported the class to Ye Olde England
It was magic you did, to this day I will claim
"Chaucer, Shakespeare, Sidney"--You invoked them by name
And the words that they wrote were revealed to me
As though they were living and fluid and free
No longer confined to the books that were bound
Their words that you spoke from your lips became sound
And the poetry written all those centuries ago
Could reverberate now in tones high and tones low
It was quite like a dance or a symphony or play
And the students were part of the show every day
We were not just your audience to admire your teaching
But expected to act and with our own words be reaching
The high expectations you set then before us--
They were never forgotten, though they now need a chorus
Of voices reminding to make those words written
Daily on keyboard and not intermittent
If now I complain there's too much on my saucer
I know you would say remember Geoffrey Chaucer:
The Knight "bigan with right a merye cheere
His tale anoon [meant now, not soon!], and saide as ye may heere..."
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