Went with Edmund to the second meeting of the London Revolutionary Society. The air was full of the anger and tension which has been prevalent in this society for years. We watched with mixed emotions as the Rev. Dr. Richard Price revelled in the start of the blood bath which would change the face of our country. Edmund was beside himself with anger and sadness. As I listened, I could hear the Rev. Dr.'s eager taste for vindication. This was not going to be a quick revolution.
A day I will never forget. Today I discussed poetic structure with William Wordsworth. In Calais, on the trail to the alps, I was stopped by a tired crew who inquired about the use of my canteen. Happily I obliged the request and began to introduce myself. When he stepped forward and shook my hand, telling me that he was William, my mind raced. I had seen his books under his arm as they strolled up. This must be Wordsworth. I asked and was correct. In the most beautiful of surroundings and the most knowledgeable of teachers, I found another small part of myself as a writer.
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Composed by Ryan McCabe of Miami University of Ohio.