The Crazy World

The world did say to me,
' My bread thou shalt not eat,
I have no place for thee
In house nor field nor street.

' I have on land nor sea
For thee nor home nor bread,
I scarce can give to thee
A grave when thou art dead.'

' O crazy World,' said I,
' What is it thou canst give,
Which wanting, I must die,
Or having, I shall live ?

' When thou thy all hast spent,
And all thy harvests cease,
I still have nutriment
That groweth by decrease.

' Thy streets will pass away,
Thy towers of steel be rust,
Thy heights to plains decay,
Thyself be wandering dust ;

' But I go ever on
From prime to endless prime,
I sit on Being's throne,
A lord o'er space and time.

' Then, crazy World,' said I,
' What is it thou canst give,
Which wanting, I must die,
Or having, I shall live ? '