She’s old and tired and frail,
Her hair is silver grey,
Her hands are still and wrinkled
But her smile is bright and gay
She never had a family,
But still she played a part
In the lives of many children,
From the goodness of her heart.
She was often criticized
For her sometimes stern commands,
But her patience knew no limit
With one who tried to understand.
Now she sits there in the park,
Watching the children play;
The children of her students
From her younger, bygone days.
Yes, she was a teacher,
So often misunderstood;
Now she has retired, they say
Man! That teacher sure was good!
© Fay Herridge
Published in Newfoundland Herald, 1973
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