Topology Atlas Document # topc-24

Christmas Poem with a Topological Twist

Kathleen Kustin

The poem that follows was composed about 20 years ago while Kathleen (née Kahila) Kustin was a graduate student at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. It won second place in a poetry contest conducted by The Mathematical Intelligencer and appeared in Volume 12 (1990). It is reprinted with the permission of the author and Sheldon Axler, the editor of the Intelligencer at that time. It appeared also in a book by Martin Gardner published by Simon and Shuster. It seems worth reprinting again. We are indebted to Julian Dontchev for calling it to our attention.

The original poem A Visit From Saint Nicholas (1822) by Clement C. Moore appears below.

Christmas Poem with a Topological Twist

Kathleen Kustin

Twas the Night Before the Topology Final
And all through the Haus (-dorff space)
Not a filter was stirring
Not even a filterbase.
An epsilon-net in a heap on the floor
I'm just too tired to work anymore!
The chapters all studied, all thoroughly read
And visions of Cantorsets dance in my head.

When out in my neighborhood there arose such a clatter
I ran to the window to see what was the matter
I stood and I stared, my amazement complete
'Twas the men from Topology, all most discrete
Cauchy and Moore and Tietze and Lindelöf
Zariski and Urysohn, Sorgenfrey, Tychonoff.

They came in a sleigh, and such was their fame
It was drawn by reindeer, and they called them by name
Now Metric, now Closure, now Inverse and Subbase
On Subnet, on Cover, on Product and Subspace.

And then in a twinkling they converged on my roof
(The reader must supply the proof!)
As I drew in my head and was turning around
Down the chimney they came with a bound.

They sat and discussed, 'till hours quite wee
Equivalent conditions for regularity
And whether it was an invariant fact
That a metric space is separable if it's compact
They showed me examples, and also a trick
Now, to what are T_3.5 spaces homeomorphic?

It's quite late, and my fate is sealed
Under all this pressure, my brain has congealed!
But they meant no harm, it was quite unintentional
After all, they're only zero-dimensional.

So they sprang to their sleigh, urged a fast pace
And then they were gone, not leaving a trace
But I heard them exclaim, not at all formal
"Always remember, paracompact implies normal!"

A visit from Saint Nicholas

Clement C. Moore

T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, -- not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."