I’ll sing you a grand new song, evolved from a cute young pate,
Of a fine old Atom-Molecule of prehistoric date.
In size infinitesimal, in potencies though great,
And self-formed for developing at a prodigious rate–
      Like a fine old Atom-molecule,
      Of the young World’s proto-prime!

In it slept all the forces in our cosmos that run rife,
To stir Creation’s giants or its microscopic life;
Harmonious in discord, and cooperant in strife,
To this small cell committed, the World lived with his Wife–
      In this fine old Atom-Molecule,
      Of the young world’s proto-prime!

In this autoplastic archetype of Protean protein lay
All the humans Space has room for, or for whom Time makes a day,
From the Sage whose words of wisdom Prince or Parliament obey,
To the Parrots who but prattle, and the Asses who but bray–
      So full was this Atom-Molecule,
      Of the young World’s proto-prime!

All brute-life, from Lamb to Lion, from the Serpent to the Dove,
All that pains the sense or pleases, all the heart can loathe or love,
All instincts that drag downwards, all desires that upwards move,
Were caged, a "happy family," cheek-by-jowl and hand-in-glove,
      In this fine old Atom-Molecule,
      Of the young World’s proto-prime!

In it Order grew from Chaos, Light out of Darkness shined,
Design sprang up by Accident, Law’s rule from Hazard blind,
The Soul-less Soul evolving–against, not after, kind–
As the Life-less Life developed, and the Mind-less ripened Mind,
      In this fine old Atom-Molecule,
      Of the young World’s proto-prime.

Then bow down, Mind, to Matter; from brain-fibre, Will, withdraw;
Fall Man’s heart to cell Ascidian, sink Man’s hand to Monkey’s paw;
And bend the knee to Protoplast in philosophic awe–
Both Creator and Created, at once work and source of Law,
      And our Lord be the Atom-Molecule,
      Of the young world’s proto-prime.