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Imagine yourself to be Helen Keller. At the age of forty,you wish to thank Miss Sullivan for her sincere efforts in educating you. Write a thank you letter to Miss Sullivan
ava71:
kaise
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maine kisi boy ko aaj tak apna no nahi diya
bye
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Montgomery, March 16, 1917.
Dearest Teacher:
I don't know when this letter will reach you, as the strike of the railroad brotherhoods has been called for tomorrow, and I am not sure that you will be here on the 14th of April. So I am taking this chance to tell you how I thank God at the remembrance of you on your birthday. Would it might be as beautiful, as entirely joyous for you to remember as the day is for me when you gave birth to my mind! Yes, whatever the menace of the years may be, my faith will speak. May the cruel tree of your sorrow put forth glowing blossoms of joy! May new strength and triumph wait upon you! May the sunshine of love still lie warm upon your brave life and you, my precious Teacher.
Polly's letter with the sweet message from the Porto Rico (sic) woods came Wednesday. It is uncanny how keenly I have felt all the delight and loveliness of your paradise, how I have adored it despite the unrest and anxiety about you that surrounded me, and how sad I feel now at the thought of your leaving it. It does not seem, as if I had been away from you all this weary while; it seems as if I had dwelt with you in your wee camp, talked with you daily and touched your face many times a day in sheer gladness at your contentment. This verse expresses my thought as really as if I had been there bodily.
"There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
As that vale in whose bosom the bright water meet;
Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green;
"Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill--
Oh no! it was something more exquisite still.
'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near,
Who made every dear scene of enchantment
more dear."
I wish we could stay longer, until your soul was so wrapt in the glory of our "joy isle" that your rough days of trial and heartache seemed as if they had never been! Perhaps in the face of all objections to an enervating climate that we hear, Porto Rico (sic) has done you a world of good, and it may be as well for you to remain until the heat of summer drives you away
Your affectionate (sic)
Helen.
Dearest Teacher:
I don't know when this letter will reach you, as the strike of the railroad brotherhoods has been called for tomorrow, and I am not sure that you will be here on the 14th of April. So I am taking this chance to tell you how I thank God at the remembrance of you on your birthday. Would it might be as beautiful, as entirely joyous for you to remember as the day is for me when you gave birth to my mind! Yes, whatever the menace of the years may be, my faith will speak. May the cruel tree of your sorrow put forth glowing blossoms of joy! May new strength and triumph wait upon you! May the sunshine of love still lie warm upon your brave life and you, my precious Teacher.
Polly's letter with the sweet message from the Porto Rico (sic) woods came Wednesday. It is uncanny how keenly I have felt all the delight and loveliness of your paradise, how I have adored it despite the unrest and anxiety about you that surrounded me, and how sad I feel now at the thought of your leaving it. It does not seem, as if I had been away from you all this weary while; it seems as if I had dwelt with you in your wee camp, talked with you daily and touched your face many times a day in sheer gladness at your contentment. This verse expresses my thought as really as if I had been there bodily.
"There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
As that vale in whose bosom the bright water meet;
Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green;
"Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill--
Oh no! it was something more exquisite still.
'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near,
Who made every dear scene of enchantment
more dear."
I wish we could stay longer, until your soul was so wrapt in the glory of our "joy isle" that your rough days of trial and heartache seemed as if they had never been! Perhaps in the face of all objections to an enervating climate that we hear, Porto Rico (sic) has done you a world of good, and it may be as well for you to remain until the heat of summer drives you away
Your affectionate (sic)
Helen.
thanks brother
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