Epitaph of Professor John Peterson

I know not where he lies My professor old, But I knew him from youth He had a heart of gold. I muse the words he said His wizened grey hair, Glasses atop his nose With a gaze that would snare. I feel his affections When am down and blue, Know the soil he graces Is blessed with spirits true. I wish I could someday Find his graveside gray, And offer him orchids T o rest his soul and pray. Oh! My professor old, Thy heart of pure gold, Lamp that you lit in me With your wisdom untold! ***********