The ambiguous word, base his own law on “chance”;
And, even while he used it, there would move
Before his eyes in every flake of colour,
Inlaid upon the butterfly’s patterned wing,
Legions of atoms wheeling each to its place
In ever constant law; and he knew well
That, even in the living eye that saw them,
The self-same Power that bound the starry worlds
Controlled a myriad atoms, every one
An ordered system; and in every cloud