Demise of my favourite teacher...Home they brought her warrior dead...

I learnt this poem at my fifth grade..I still remember each and every line of this poem.It was taught by my favourite English teacher..She taught this poem exceptionally beautiful that I still remember this poem..Each and every line was a melody in her teaching..I just started loving english because of her..I met her once when I got to my 12^th grade.I wished to tell her that I started loving english because of her.At the surprise of seeing her after a very long time, I didnt even get words to speak to hear.

Oneday, I heard the news of her demise, I was greatly shocked,I was at home..and there was the news of her demise on a channel with her photo..I could help myself control my tears..tears swelled up in my eyes.And she really was so young to have died earlier.I thought this might be a bad dream, but it was true.

I didnt go to her funeral..I was feeling bad about facing like as if I was still at my fifth grade waiting for her to punish me for something.I didnt have the guts to face her.I couldnt bring myself believe that she is dead..

She lived in a street next to ours.I happened to be going around there.I visited her sisters, asked them what exactly happened.They told me she died of a heart attack.I was unable to hide back tears at seeing their tear drenched faces.I tried to fight back tears, I was unable to help,so I returned home as fast as I could and cried to myself alone..thinking about her,her way of doing things,her mannerism..

To me, she was a perfect example of a teacher, for she and only she knows to handle kids..

Home they brought her warrior dead

Home they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:
All her maidens, watching, said,
‘She must weep or she will die.’

Then they praised him, soft and low,
Called him worthy to be loved,
Truest friend and noblest foe;
Yet she neither spoke nor moved.

Stole a maiden from her place,
Lightly to the warrior stepped,
Took the face-cloth from the face;
Yet she neither moved nor wept.

Rose a nurse of ninety years,
Set his child upon her knee—
Like summer tempest came her tears—
‘Sweet my child, I live for thee.’

                    --Alfred Lord Tennyson 

Home they brought her warrior dead..Really, she had been a warrior and that too a very brave warrior in her life..for she had many problems to endure with.Yet, she was a very cheery person..

I pay my tribute to her with my English..I love English because of my love for her!!

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