For you never know what Dynamics do With the lower truths of Statics; And half of two is a touring car In the Higher Mathematics.
There is a place apart Beyond the solar ray, Where parallel straight lines can meet in an unofficial way. There is a room that holds The examiner or his clerks, Where you can square the circle or the man that gives the marks. Where you hide in the cellar and then look down On the poets that live in the attics; For the whole of the house is upside down In the Higher Mathematics.
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