I My soul’s an amphicheiral knot Upon a liquid vortex wrought By Intellect in the Unseen residing, While thou dost like a convict sit With marlinspik… - James Clerk Maxwell

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I
My soul’s an amphicheiral knot
Upon a liquid vortex wrought
By Intellect in the Unseen residing,
While thou dost like a convict sit
With marlinspike untwisting it
Only to find my knottiness abiding;
Since all the tools for my untying
In four-dimensioned space are lying,
Where playful fancy intersperses
Whole avenues of universes;
Where Klein and Clifford fill the void
With one unbounded, finite homaloid,
Whereby the Infinite is hopelessly destroyed. II
But when thy Science lifts her pinions
In Speculation’s wild dominions,
I treasure every dictum thou emittest;
While down the stream of Evolution
We drift, and look for no solution
But that of the survival of the fittest.
Till in that twilight of the gods
When earth and sun are frozen clods,
When, all its energy degraded,
Matter in æther shall have faded,
We, that is, all the work we’ve done,
As waves in æther, shall for ever run
In swift-expanding spheres, through heavens
beyond the sun. III
Great Principle of all we see,
Thou endless Continuity!
By thee are all our angles gently rounded;
Our misfits are by thee adjusted,
And as I still in thee have trusted,
So let my methods never be confounded!
O never may direct Creation
Break in upon my contemplation,
Still may the causal chain, ascending,
Appear unbroken and unending,
And, where that chain is lost to sight
Let viewless fancies guide my darkling flight
Through Æon-haunted worlds, in order infinite.
∂p/∂t