Kiss me, pretty protoplasm by Phillip Wylie

Life is just a passing spasm, In an aggregate of cells; Kiss me, pretty protoplasm, While your osculation dwells. Glucose-sweet, no enzyme action Or love-lytic can reduce, Our relations to a fraction Of hereditary use. Nuclear rejuvenation Melts the auricle of stoic: Love requires a balanced ration— Let our food be holozoic; Let us live with all our senses While anabolism lets us— Till—with metaplastic fences Some katabolism gets us. Till, potential strength, retreating, Leaves us at extinction’s chasm: And, since time is rather fleeting, Kiss me, pretty protoplasm.