It’s that time of year again—the time when poetry rings in the hallways and hearts of CCA students and teachers alike. I must admit that teaching poetry at CCA has been one of my most serendipitous experiences as a teacher. I didn’t foresee that I would end up learning dozens of poems by merely listening to the students recite their Poetry Festival choices. Without any intentional effort at memorization on my part, my mind is filled with beautiful lines of verse from the last many centuries. What a gift! As if teaching literature was not enough of a joy already…I am left feeling blessed and thankful for the opportunity to work with the students and these works of art. I hope you all will feel this pleasure also when you join us for the Poetry Festival tomorrow in the Multi-Purpose Room.

Here is one of tomorrow’s poems that Ryan Kim will recite. This is the first year that we have an international literature class competing in addition to our traditional dialectic contestants from 7^th-9^th grades. Ryan is one of the winners from the international student literature class. Joanne Kim (no relation to Ryan!) will also represent the class.  A third student will be chosen at random from each dialectic and the international student literature classes tomorrow at lunch, immediately before the competition. This "wild card" selection always adds another layer of fun to the whole day. 

A special thank you to our judges from Messiah College and the Harrisburg community, to Christine Perrin who helps keep poetry alive in our hearts and is invaluable in finding judges for us, and to Classical Academic Press who is again sponsoring our Festival winners with cash prizes.

Song

by Christina Rossetti (pictured above)

When I am dead, my dearest,

Sing no sad songs for me;

Plant thou no roses at my head,

Nor shady cypress tree:

Be the green grass above me

With showers and dewdrops wet;

And if thou wilt, remember,

And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,

I shall not feel the rain;

I shall not hear the nightingale

Sing on, as if in pain;

And dreaming through the twilight

That doth not rise nor set,

Haply I may remember,

And haply may forget.