THIS modern scientist—a word uncouth—

Who calls himself a seeker after truth,

And traces man through monkey back to frog,

Seeing a Plato in each pollywog,

Ascribes all things unto the power of Matter.

The soldier’s glory, and his country’s need—

Self-sacrificing love—self-seeking greed—

The false religion some vain bigots prize,

Which seeks to win a soul by telling lies—

And even pseudo-scientific clatter—

All these, he says, are but the work of Matter.

Thus, self-made science, like a self-made man,

Deems naught uncomprehended in its plan;

Sees naught he can’t explain by his own laws.

The time has come, at length, to bid him pause,

Before he strive to leap the unknown chasm

Reft wide ’twixt awful God and protoplasm.