Not Bedlam could invent the logic of this life

nor madness offer more than scraps of mind

nor human logic find a reason of a kind

where hate is love and peace an act of strife.

For ways and means are aimed at some success;

the habit of the brain makes all things neat

loose ends are gathered, then the thing’s complete.

Our calculus does not tolerate the human mess.

We are not capable of the ultimate insanity

by which the shepherd risks the very self

clings to the freezing face of Everest on the narrow shelf

to offer help where help itself is vanity.

Today’s good sense is yesterday’s offense;