I SEE a lawn
Strewn here and there with little knobs of bone
And chewed billets,
And I feel justified in saying
Somewhere hereabouts
Is a dog.

I see a world
Strewn here and there
With delightful evidences of law—
Geometrical cobwebs, dark blue thunderheads,
The lid of the tea kettle gently chinkling,
Hailstones round and white as camphor-balls—
I say, it looks as though there were a god.

Even if this god is only the binomial theorem,
He is no less a god.