As by the dead we love to sit,
Become so wondrous dear,
As for the lost we grapple,
Though all the rest are here, —
In broken mathematics
We estimate our prize,
Vast, in its fading ratio,
To our penurious eyes!
The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad for life, mad for talking, mad for poetry.
As by the dead we love to sit,
Become so wondrous dear,
As for the lost we grapple,
Though all the rest are here, —
In broken mathematics
We estimate our prize,
Vast, in its fading ratio,
To our penurious eyes!