The Blacksmith's Books Poem by Etienne Charilaou

'Twas the blacksmith of our village wise,
who with his hammer did devise,
a plain and sturdy shelf of wood,
which he filled with all the books he could.

The village children he invited
to read whatever their eyes delighted.
And sometimes to them he would read
and a more rapt audience never was indeed.

O gentle signpost, guiding hand
pointing to us the way grand.
Teachers like this are not forgot;
not while their pupils rhyme a lot!