With apologies to
T S Eliot
The naming of planets is a difficult matter
It isn't just one of your holiday games
You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter
When I tell you a planet must have three different names
First of all, there's the name that the public use daily
Such as Mercury, Venus, Earth or Mars
Such as Victor or Jupiter, Saturn or Uranus
All of them sensible, everyday names
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter
Some for the dwarf planets, some for the asteroids
Such as Ceres, Vesta, Eledris, Disnomia
But all of them sensible everyday names
But I tell you a planet needs a name that's particular
A name that's peculiar, and more dignified
Else how can he keep up it's MP registration
Or spread out it's moons, or cherish it's pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum
Such as Triton, IO or Titan
Such as Calisto, or else Encelidus
Names that never belong to more than one planet
But above and beyond there's still one name left over
And that is the name that you never will guess
The name that no human research can discover
But the planet itself knows, and will never confess
When you notice a planet in profound occultation
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
It's "mind" is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought
Of the thought
Of the thought
Of it's name
It's ineffable effable effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular name