Who smallest globules cram with the very biggest flam,
Swallowing both together in the most prodigious way.
Oh, Mr. Faraday, simple Mr. Faraday!
Men of learning, who, at least, should better know, you'd think,
Credit a pack of odd tales of images that nod,
Openly profess belief that certain pictures wink,
That saints have sailed on cloaks, and without the slightest hoax,
In the dark, by miracle, not like stale fish, did shine,
Nor phosphorus, that slowly, might, in personages holy—
As in others, possibly, with oxygen combine.