There was an ape who found a ball of gold
buried beneath the trash heap where he played.
It might have been many hundred years old,
such marks of wear and age the thing displayed.
He took it in his paws and rolled it round;
he tried to crack it, egg-like, on a rim.
But it was solid; no fault could be found,
and soon it lost its interest to him.
So the ape left it there upon that hill,
untended save by sunlight, wind, and rain;
and thus that golden ball is perched there still,
as dull and solid as the primate's brain.
Except on moonlit nights--it spins and glows
under the stars, and opens like a rose.
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