At a desk facing west drinking hot English tea,
Man sits scribbling by flicker in a notebook scribed "B".
Stroking line after line with quill dipped in ink,
The tree of life springs and two words, "I think".
He takes to the seas like a migrating seagull,
observing the world from the HMS Beagle.
Collecting the proof of the start through divisions
from finches and bees and abundant rock pigeons.
To Lyell and Wallace his book does show promise
and the barker of this carnival, his bulldog friend Thomas.
To the origin of man it makes no allusion,
save one subtle wink placed near the conclusion
Of the light to be shed there is no mistake
Evolution is truth
to be proved for God's sake.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.