"Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made;
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And ev’ry man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky."
Pencilled on the wall of a narrow room of an asylum by a man said to have been demented.
The profound lines were discovered after his death.
