The Joys of Science

I took her and I flattened her
Respectfully, I hope
I pasted her upon a slip
Under the microscope
With six-power-lens — I saw her
Ah, I shall ne’er forget
While hearts can beat and flowers can blow
That hour when first we met.

Ah, with what prayer and fasting
Shall mortal man deserve
To see that glimpse of heaven:
Her motor vagus nerve.
Gaze not, ye too inflammable
Beneath that harmless hair
The convolutions of her brain
Are perilously fair.

I breathed into that microscope
A vow of melting tone
I swore by men and angels
The thunder and the throne
That ere one brave brown hair were touched
On that triumphant head
My serum’s red corpuscula
Should cheerfully be shed.

Spurn not the Men of Science
They sob beneath your sneers
While with their large thermometers
They test their burning tears.
They cleave the rock and rend the flower
They find — is this their sin? —
Nature, the Great King’s daughter,
All glorious within.

— (late 1890s).

Published in: on August 22, 2012 at 11:20 pm  Leave a Comment  

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