More than halfway up the pass <br />Was a spring with a broken drinking glass, <br />And whether the farmer drank or not <br />His mare was sure to observe the spot <br />By cramping the wheel on a water-bar, <br />turning her forehead with a star, <br />And straining her ribs for a monster sigh; <br />To which the farmer would make reply, <br />'A sigh for every so many breath, <br />And for every so many sigh a death. <br />That's what I always tell my wife <br />Is the multiplication table of life.' <br />The saying may be ever so true; <br />But it's just the kind of a thing that you <br />Nor I, nor nobody else may say, <br />Unless our purpose is doing harm, <br />And then I know of no better way <br />To close a road, abandon a farm, <br />Reduce the births of the human race, <br />And bring back nature in people's place.<br /><br />Robert Lee Frost<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-times-table/
