## Emma Rounds

‘Twas Euclid, and the theorem pi Did plane and solid in the text, All parallel were the radii, And the ang-gulls convex’d. “Beware the Wentworth-Smith, my son, And the Loci that vacillate; Beware the Axiom, and shun The faithless Postulate.” He took his Waterman in hand; Long time the proper proof he sought; Then rested he by the XYZ And sat awhile in thought. And as in inverse thought he sat A brilliant proof, in lines of flame, All neat and trim, it came to him, Tangenting as it came. “AB, CD,” reflected he– The Waterman went snicker-snack– He Q.E.D.-ed, and, proud indeed, He trapezoided back. “And hast thou proved the 29th? Come to my arms, my radius boy! O good for you! O one point two!” He rhombused in his joy. ‘Twas Euclid, and the theorem pi Did plane and solid in the text; All parallel were the radii, And the ang-gulls convex’d.…