How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways
Not a finger shall I straighten
In my computation
As I recount my lamentation
At the havoc that you wrought
No calculator needed
As I reconcile my thesis
Such low number needs no genius
Nor exertion of my thought
For such a pitiable sum
Is understood by deaf and dumb
Neither finger nor my thumb
Nor mathematics bureau
Should be dispatched to this cause
In simple algebraic laws
With your love so full of flaws
My counting is rested now at zero