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?’