By Emmett Lee Dickinson: As with a dread we had to sit When it became quite clear As for some sense we grappled Tho’ all was lost in there – In broken, staged dogmatics His Nobel Pizza Prize Lost – in post-haste fashion To our horror-stricken eyes! | By Emily Dickinson: As by the dead we love to sit, Become so wondrous dear -- As for the lost we grapple Tho' all the rest are here -- In broken mathematics We estimate our prize Vast — in its fading ration To our penurious eyes! |