Once upon a time there was, how to put it, a hermit
Who lived not very, very far away from a mountain
Who tried and tried, but not very deeply
To learn everything, and maybe more
Before reentering the world.
Once upon that time he journeyed toward a castle
Where some kind of tutor was needed to lecture
In advance, a problem was sent to him to solve
No, not a challenge : a problem
Before an audience, for trial.
More than once upon a time he studied that problem
And read and read and read and read
And then, to be ready, reread all
Noting, pre-planning, almost
If the idea was not absurd.
Once confronted with the king and all his advisors
The hermit presented the solution he recorded
From his readings, an elegant solution,
Almost elementary,
Feverishly
Once, twice, thrice upon a time the hermit turned
To look back at his notes, to check everything
His mind turned, his tongue twisted
when time came for the tail trick
Understanding for
Once and hopefully ever after what Francis Bacon said
A long, long time ago, recalled from his notes
That reading maketh a full man, writing an
Exact man but that only conference
maketh a ready man.
