Mr. Duffy's gift of poetry

I have received several kind responses to my previous blog post. Thank you to those who let me know they enjoyed it!

It got me thinking about poetry, and how it has enriched my life at times. Often, when I am feeling emotional, I will think of lines from poems I learned in my youth. You see, I was a very lucky student back in elementary school. I attended a small school that was a lab school for a small college in the little town of Fredonia New York. Called the Campus School, it was the place where the elementary education students from the college got to practice before being set out into the world as teachers. Each class had a teacher, plus numerous student teachers throughout the year. Our class size was limited to no more than 25 students. With one teacher plus sometimes up to 3 student teachers (a senior student plus two junior students) we had a lot of attention.

In the Fifth Grade, I was lucky to be assigned to Mr. Duffy's class. He was a young, energetic guy who not only kept up with 25 10 year olds, but kept us busy, interested and learning. And in addition to the usual subjects, he taught us poetry.

Mr. Duffy loved poetry. He read us poems daily. He encouraged us to write them (I have a collection of creative writing from our class-- many poems in there, including my own!) and to memorize them. His love for poetry was infectious... I learned to love it too.

As a thank you to this wonderful teacher (who I have heard is still living, reading poetry no doubt!) I present another poem for your enjoyment. I can still hear him reading this poem with great gusto and enthusiasm, the class listening wide eyed...

Mr. Gerald Duffy, many years after he taught me this poem...

The Charge of the Light Brigade

by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

1.

Half a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,

All in the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!

Charge for the guns!" he said:

Into the valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred.

2.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"

Was there a man dismay'd?

Not tho' the soldier knew

Someone had blunder'd:

Theirs not to make reply,

Theirs not to reason why

Theirs but to do and die:

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

3.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon in front of them

Volley'd and thunder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell,

Boldly they rode and well,

Into the jaws of Death,

Into the mouth of Hell

Rode the six hundred.

 4.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,

Flash'd as they run'd in air,

Sabring the gunners there,

Charging an army, while

All the world wonder'd:

Plunged in the battery-smoke

Right thro' the line they broke;

Cossack and Russian

Reel'd from the sabre stroke

Shatter'd and sunder'd.

Then they rode back, but not

Not the six hundred.

5.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon behind them

Volley'd and thnder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell,

While horse and hero fell,

They that had fought so well

Came thro' the jaws of Death

Back from the mouth of Hell,

All that was left of them,

Left of six hundred.

6.

When can their glory fade?

O the wild charge they made!

All the world wondered.

Honor the charge they made,

Honor the Light Brigade,

Noble six hundred.

Copied from Poems of Alfred Tennyson,
J. E. Tilton and Company, Boston, 1870