That out of chaos order comes is wrong—
As if a hurricane might sing a song,
Or if in a tornado’s furious path
Up sprang a house of mortar, brick and lath.
Mere randomness and accident can’t make
A cube of ice or even a snowflake
Without some laws of nature implicate
That fashion their components meet and fit.
Just so it is this poem takes its form
Because within the elements that storm
About within the poet’s beating brain
Is something formative that shapes a train
Of thought by which the poem is designed:
Implicit in all matter there lies mind.