Sometimes I imagine a time when

And the mind of a kind of man then

That valued an utterly useless thing.

Of no shape known, not stick, not ring;

Beyond that kind of man to guess;

Ideal and perfect uselessness.

I cannot imagine its size or weight.

To light's beam was it glass or slate?

To hammer's blow was it turf or bell?

Did it smell? Of what did it smell?

I cannot imagine a reason for

The thought of it as superior.

I cannot imagine one unabstruse

Perfectly useless object's use.