I know not what this may betoken, <br />That I feel so wondrous wise; <br />My dream of existence is broken <br />Since science has opened my eyes. <br />At the British Association <br />I heard the President’s speech, <br />And the methods and facts of creation <br />Seemed suddenly placed in my reach. <br /> <br />My life’s undivided devotion <br />To Science I solemnly vowed, <br />I’d dredge up the bed of the ocean, <br />I’d draw down the spark from the cloud. <br />To follow my thoughts as they go on, <br />Electrodes I’d place in my brain; <br />Nay, I'd swallow a live entozöon, <br />New feelings of life to obtain. <br /> <br />O where are those high feasts of Science? <br />O where are those words of the wise? <br />I hear but the roar of Red Lions, <br />I eat what their Jackal supplies. <br />I meant to lie so scientific, <br />But science seems turned into fun; <br />And this, with his roaring terrific, <br />That old red lion bath done.<br /><br />James Clerk Maxwell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-of-the-cub/
