Some poetry, written by yours truly.

O Caml: A Sonnet

What spirit did awaken in my heart
When first mine eyes met thy recursive gaze?
How should I ever bear to be apart
From thy gentle lists and thy static arrays?
O Caml, let me plunge towards thy base!
And pray thee, lest my stack should overflow,
When thou bind’st me in thy function call’s embrace,
Ensure no computation doth follow.
How different can thy fine arrow-types be
From those of Eros? For my desire doth burn
As thou evaluatest eagerly
My wretched soul, a unit to return.
  No other earthly language can compare,
  And e’er I long to match thy patterns fair.