Professor Of The School Poem by Bernard F. Asuncion

M-arch third early Friday
E-rases the Thursday night;
L-ight above the horizon
E-liminates the twilight.
N-o more mist in the air,
C-old chill comes to an end;
I-t's a pleasant morning,
O-ne beacon begins to ascend.

D-awn has just broken,
O-pening your day of birth;
L-et not the fret prevail
O-ver the million mirth.
R-igid research or study
I-s the mentor's mind tool;
T-eaching is a noble vocation
O-f a professor of the
S-chool.