“Oh, tell me, tell me, did you give too much
too soon, too suddenly, beyond your will?
Did war, fatigue and boredom’s wasting touch
empty your years before your years could fill?
Or did you find simplicity too soon,
all life revolved about a single point
as though the sun of hate should glare at noon
forever vertical in time’s disjoint?
Can you not rest now? Or do day on day
pile up their constant hours in demands
for payments heaped beyond the means to pay,
deeper than drifts, more infinite than sands?
Patience! Until the drifts of debt become
riches you cannot reckon up the sum. “
Christopher La Farge, from “Beauty for Ashes”
Dear polymaths, especially the gents, I wanted to share this sonnet with you. Some of you will have seen it elsewhere. It makes me think of men like you, insofar as I can know you from cyber-interaction. Enjoy it please.