Why I Prefer Poetry To Cold Science.
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Bloodless science won't save us in the end.
Although it is truly miraculous
To observe the keen splendour of Nature
In most acute microscopic detail,
Or carefully chart the birth of a star,
All those who indulge in the dark art of
Crude things like frog dissection leave me cold.
It's a kind of heresy to my eyes.
Perhaps it is more worthwhile to capture
The pink spectre of rose beneath the frost.
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