|Things! Things! Things!

Things! Things! Things!
On the table, on the floor,
Tucked away behind the door;
On the shelves and on the chairs:
Dangerously on the stairs.
Bureaus crammed and closets filled,
Boxes packed and boxes spilled:
Bundles everywhere you go,
Heaps and piles that overflow
Of Things! Things! Things!

Things! Things! Things!
Things of value, worthless trash;
Things preserved or gone to smash,
Ancient things and things just bought,
Common things and things far sought.
Things you mean to throw away,
Things you hope to use some day:
Cellar, attic, all between
One exasperating scene
Of Things! Things! Things!

Things! Things! Things!
Things that take our precious time;
Hold us from the life sublime,
Things that only gather dust,
Things that rot and things that rust;
Things that mold and things that freeze:
Things that harbor foul disease,
Things that mock us and defy,
Till at last we grimly die
Of Things! Things! Things!

Things! Things! Things!
Let me cease to be their fool,
Let me fly their crafty rule!
Let me with unsparing knife
Cut their canker from my life!
Broad and clear and all serene
Let me make my mansion clean
From Things! Things! Things!

—Amos R. Wells
[Found at the end of chapter 2, “Downsizing,” in Come to the Quiet (Hohnberger, pp. 34-35).]

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