A man stood with arms up to the heaven
Deep in thought that ask of him a question
Over and over, running through him anew
What precious he hath and none but few
Ponder he, for gold he had not nor silver quick
Fame and fortune to him was but a mist
Small he be, with a build to him but a wish
Fair of skin was not he, even if had he hair at wrist
Style of old with virtues as legends was of his
Still to be found on men of age leaning on sticks
Fun of behavior he was not, sarcastic of a fashion maybe
But naught he could grasp did aid him, lost he was therein
Thence perchance a beam of light fell on his face
Through clouds and fell drops of rain, it cometh forth
Dawning of an understanding scratching his brow
Hence his arm came down as his heart did pace
Thereby hangs a tale, of what he solely realized, as goes
What he had, none save for he, did have nor posses
Those some that did have what he had, had but a breath of it
Thus had not what he truly had had as his own
Appreciate I may have not what this man had realized
And grasped not that what he held dear, be but love for
One diamond in the ruff that be but you, my love
If that man above had not been, none other but I
Trans-ponder-Podgals
English: Place to Ponder Ponderboxes
A Letter To Ponder
: Ephraim Ponder House