come let us hasten to a higher plane,
where dyads tread the fairy fields of venn,
their indices bedecked from one to n
commingled in an endless markov chain
come, every frustrum longs to be a cone,
and every vector dreams of matrices.
hark to the gentle gradient of the breeze
it whispers of a more ergodic zone.
in riemann, hilbert or in banach space
let superscripts and subscripts go their ways
our asymptotes no longer out of phase
we shall encounter, counting face to face.
i'll grant thee random access to my heart
thou'lt tell me all the constants of thy love
and so we two shall all love's lemmas prove
and in our bound partition never part.
for what did cauchy know or christoffel,
or fourier or any boole or euler
wielding their compasses, their planes and rulers
of thy supernal sinusoidal spell?
