O Scientist (A Rondeau in Tetrametre)
O Scientist, no more arms invent;
To heal, not harm, your skill is meant.
Old War's ruins await repair;
For new ones wherefore, then, prepare?
Widows' wails and loud laments
Of those whose homes are razed or rent,
The orphaned, maimed, don't make you repent?
From throes of woes your brethren spare,
O Scientist!
Armour, instead of arms, invent,
To even Nature's raids prevent.
Construct a case with cautious care
For housing Peace and all that's fair.
Then will be your time well-spent,
O Scientist!
Dr. Tulsi Hanumanthu
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/o-scientist/
