Many have praised the house. I praise the nail,
The hidden graft of growth and purposes
That is not growth and outlasts purposes.
Many have praised the house, I praise the nail.

Many have praised the house, I praise the nail,
Forgiving the ore itself which knows no mockery
But praising the molded nail which is a mockery.
Many have praised the house, I praise the nail.

For all the speech in the house is numbered wishes,
For these condense on the wood whose days are numbered,
For nothing fastens the nail to what it fastens,
For when I am praising the nail I praise the fire.

For when the house burns what of the nail?
For when the house burns what of the nail?
It will slither away like a tear, weeping into the ground.
Because that is not the truth I praise the nail.
 

SCENE FROM A LATE COMEDY

I name her, below, what I did not, above:
My love, my love, my love, my love, my love.