Tucked away in library land,
World dampened 'tween the books,
The way starts forth gold flecks,
Among the sand, a precious hope,
Enthralling to a seethe as I then glance,
Upon the corner of a picture struck upon the mind:
O hours by the books in quiet places to be had!

Crafting words upon my screen,
What strange diction do I see?
Of public, private, void and true,
Of numbers devoured.
In jaws of brackets, yawning,
Snug against colons on the right,
A script to make the metal dream,

A script to make the metal dream.