In Nomine

For it is all His in the end;
What need for logic or for fact
To hold that gaze or to defend
Against the source of intellect?
Decry the logic, fail the tools
With which we probed the universe;
We forged the instruments, and fools
We argue now in blithe reverse.

Responding leaves before the sun
Each curling upward one by one,
Once joyous in their glad array –
Imagine now if they should say:
That globe of ultraviolet light,
Take it away and give us night!