and of course it was wrong br to label him as that – in just that tone of voice; br a touch of envy there, no doubt br br implying a comfortable life, br a smart careerist, older poets youthfully br cultivated, poems in the right magazines, br editors gently kept in touch with; br keeping on the right side of his peers, br 'interesting' reviews of their poetry skilfully woven, br professional favours quietly exchanged; br academic posts gracefully filled, and br moved on from; leaving grateful ex-students br recommended for the vacancy; br and an acquired ability br to write just enough, but not less; br br so it should be rather, a lifelong devotee of poetry, br and when he started to read to us I felt mean br for assuming him to be some artificial thing br a professional poet; br br I wanted to inhabit his poetry, the br house of his poetry; but some doors br to rooms were open, some were shut; br would I give the time to find and love the key? br br He read his own poems br as if they were step-children – br proud to show them off, and yet, not really his; br the audience, taken aback by this, br hesitated to applaud. br br But when he read the poems of others, br he read them as though they were miracles br to stun and to admire, yet he was, we were, barely worthy of; br dropping as fine mercy, as the gentle dew of heaven; he read like br an amateur would read the great, in awe; as - br a lifelong devotee of poetry. He shone. br In each of us, a poet was born and lived.