Do you doubt my memory
And think all your acts of love,
In great charity, that you have
Bestowed on me should be
Forgotten at a brush of a whip
Someone somewhere in whim
Holds like the letters filling a blackboard
In a classroom full of knowledge and meaning,
The students so avidly take down all, vanish,
Leaving the board empty and clean for a
New set of letters, once again from corner
To corner fill, demanding attention of the class,
And displaying the scholarship of the master
Whose hands create the majestic movements of ideas
On the empty board possible and laudable?
Should you not have faith in you
And your forgotten charities
That, I can never forget
Though your acts of sympathy
And love, have made me
What small and inconsequential
Self I have by your contributions
Become by now.
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