with my writing pen
I've gathered all my thoughts
I feel such wonderful pride
Science to Poetry benevolently presented.
For Science it was love at first sight,
but while he persisted the lady held back and desisted.
"Our impulses are parallel," he argued and pleaded,
"Although our methods and tools are divergent,
we both want to probe the actuality of things
to investigate phenomena beyond their surfaces.
We have so much in common! For one thing,
we both use language to communicate."
But, retorted dainty poetry, "You follow the star of stern objectivity
while I prefer more intimate subjectivity,
you worship the goddess of reason
while I bend at the altar of intuition,
Concrete facts are all you have eyes for
while I dote on tangible essences,
Self is my universe and I am embarked
on a conquest of inner space.
No! Material and spirit will never mix."
This put Science in rather a tight fix.
"The universe inside, and out, is our laboratory,"
he argued scientifically, sending Poetry flying.
"But I need you," he cried distractedly "I can't live without you!"
Then Poetry in her flight arrested, turned,
"Is this a fact or an essence?" asked she.
"I don't know," he answered ruefully, "Both, I think," he added truthfully.
Then smiling she gave him her hand, and through the doors of perception
together they intuitively and reasonably went