A more poetic mathematical love poem is one from Stanislaw Lem's "The Cyberiad":
Come, let us hasten to a higher plane, Where dyads tread the fairy fields of Venn, Their indices bedecked from one to n, Commingled in an endless Markov chain!
Come, every frustrum longs to be a cone, And every vector dreams of matrices. Hark to the gentle gradient of the breeze: It whispers of a more ergodic zone.
In Riemann, Hibert or in Banach space Let superscripts and subscripts go their ways. Our asymptotes no longer out of phase, We shall encounter, counting, face to face.
I'll grant thee random access to my heart, Thou'lt let me all the constants of thy love; And so we two shall all love's lemmas prove, And on our bound partition never part.
For what did Cauchy know, or Christoffel, Or Fourier, or any Boole or Euler, Weilding their compasses, their pens and rulers, Of any supernal sinusoidal spell?
Cancel me not -- for what then shall remain? Abcissas, some mantissas, modules, modes, A root or two, a torus and a node: The inverse of my verse, a null domain.
Ellipse of bliss, converge, O lips divine! The product of our scalars is defined! Cyberiad draws nigh, and the skew mind Cuts capers like a happy haversine.
I see the eigenvalue in thine eye, I hear the tender tensor in they sigh, Bernoulli would have been content to die, Had he but known such a^2 cos 2 phi!
Come, let us hasten to a higher plane,
Where dyads tread the fairy fields of Venn,
Their indices bedecked from one to n,
Commingled in an endless Markov chain!
Come, every frustrum longs to be a cone,
And every vector dreams of matrices.
Hark to the gentle gradient of the breeze:
It whispers of a more ergodic zone.
In Riemann, Hibert or in Banach space
Let superscripts and subscripts go their ways.
Our asymptotes no longer out of phase,
We shall encounter, counting, face to face.
I'll grant thee random access to my heart,
Thou'lt let me all the constants of thy love;
And so we two shall all love's lemmas prove,
And on our bound partition never part.
For what did Cauchy know, or Christoffel,
Or Fourier, or any Boole or Euler,
Weilding their compasses, their pens and rulers,
Of any supernal sinusoidal spell?
Cancel me not -- for what then shall remain?
Abcissas, some mantissas, modules, modes,
A root or two, a torus and a node:
The inverse of my verse, a null domain.
Ellipse of bliss, converge, O lips divine!
The product of our scalars is defined!
Cyberiad draws nigh, and the skew mind
Cuts capers like a happy haversine.
I see the eigenvalue in thine eye,
I hear the tender tensor in they sigh,
Bernoulli would have been content to die,
Had he but known such a^2 cos 2 phi!