If all the trees in all the woods were men; 
And each and every blade of grass a pen; 
If every leaf on every shrub and tree 
Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea 
Were changed to ink, and all earth's living tribes 
Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, 
And for ten thousand ages, day and night, 
The human race should write, and write, and write, 
Till all the pens and paper were used up, 
And the huge inkstand was an empty cup, 
Still would the scribblers clustered round its brink 
Call for more pens, more paper, and more ink. 

Poet: Oliver Wendell Holmes
Poem: Cacoethes Scribendi
Poem of the Day: Jan 30 2006

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