Poetry!

 

The very first Amoeba

Once said to his inside

"I can't get on together, George;

I really must divide.

 

"There is a surge, a wild surmise,

That troubles my - er - breast.

You shall have half the chromosomes

And I will take the rest."

 

"Tis done! "Tis done! Bisectitude!

O Rhapsody in two!

Amoeba is beside himself

And both of him is true.

 

"Hail and farewell," Amoeba said,

"This is the day of days.

We must put out our pseudopods

And take our parting ways."

 

"The centuries that lie ahead;

Those flying years of grace!

Who knows what we may yet become?

We'll set a pounding pace."

 

Amoeba's road is hard and long

To Nineveh and Rome,

But still Amoeba's on the grade;

On, on to kingdom come!

 

The very first Amoeba

Is getting old and grey

But still his dreams are far ahead;

His future far away.

 

Oh, not for him is history

And human joy and pain

In twenty minutes he'll divide

And then set out again.

 

Thomas Evan Ryves