To the teacher: A poem 

The infant of need 

is the mother of invention 

Yet, education is the seed 

of the tree of direction 

It takes moisture, sun and soil 

A flame from a lamp of oil 

for the gust in the bridges of prodigies 

to narrow the widest ridges 

Let, then, the mentoring teacher set the rules 

And spread the lesson full of clues 

That when the enlightening book is read 

Volumes will profuse instead 

Tell the story of fields where good souls bled 

Not the lies of those that spilled the lead 

Posterity should have the air of little David 

who the earth of all the Goliaths rid