This trivial lust of numbers! How
Can ever mind explain it now?
How justify, how rationalize
This blinding of the soul-owned eyes
To turn the lust of vibrant living
Into a rusty, numbered giving
Of little for but little thunder
Clouded in some mere giant number!
What hollow acclaim!
What snippet-love!
That all the gifts of saints above
Should cast off be, thrown out to winter
In quest of an idle integer.
Now will the days by numbers ruled
Turn on your heart and with a cruel
Admonishment of hurrying time
Reduce it to a numbered line.
Avoid, oh flee! This awful fate,
I pray thee e'er it is too late!
And think of the name on this poor slate,
With best regards,
8-0-0-8.

A