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The desire to know so strong,
No teacher can fulfill
The curiosity of one,
Living on discovery’s hill.
The book is always open,
The pen on paper leans,
As the autodidact,
Another factoid gleans.
Why this keen desire?
Why the need to know?
It is not for fame,
Or to shine for show.
Something deeper stirs,
Urging this student on,
The pure joy of learning,
Becomes his siren song.
From this boundless bliss,
Comes the creative spark,
Prodigious art and work,
From the smitten heart.
Anne Selleck
Copyright 2020
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