O precious treasure incomparable,
O ground and root from which all virtue springs,
O excellent and well commendable,
Praised rightly over many other things,
Of lack of you, the poet sadly sings!
What student, led to wisdom by kind guide,
And drinking deeply from where it up springs,
Can in that draught not feel some sense of pride?
What teacher, watching as the student stoops
And makes to rise again, will not delight
In welcoming that one into the group
That long has stood in love of learning’s light?
Now, though one candle’s guttered into night,
The tapers others bear were by it lit
And carry it’s flame, with it fuel their sight
As they go far afield, as well befits.
One flame, at least, burns yet, and through long years
Has traveled far from its old kindling place.
Who bears it listens yet, and lately hears
Of what who lit his taper had to face,
Of how he faced it who his life had graced
With kind compassion, more than could be earned,
With faith in him he hopes was not misplaced:
What he gladly taught, he gladly learned.