When I was young my teachers were the old.
I gave up fire for form till I was cold.
I suffered like a metal being cast.
I went to school to age to learn the past.
Now I am old my teachers are the young.
What can’t be molded must be cracked and sprung.
I strain at lessons fit to start a suture.
I go to school to youth to learn the future.
— Robert Frost
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Loving these poems. The Derek Walcott poem was wonderful and so is this. What a delightful work you do, sharing these with us!