Butler's Discourse

Poemata XVIII

“Can machines think?” he said with a blink
"Can they do more than we've told them?"
"We've told them a lot," I said with a wink
And then was my silence golden;
No more's to be said for one with a head
That still can think quite clearly;
From thinking machines we've nothing to dread
Though for dread we may yet pay dearly;

Antiquity's man did quite understand
The idea of "statue" but "living"
It talks, it walks, it moves its right hand
Gifts to it you'll be giving;
Don't think it odd to find it a fraud,
The trick of the eye is quite old
Yes, it's a statue and not a god
But some will want to be sold;

The mystery ipse, even today
For man is what he is buying
Powerful people even, they say
Love it, and without lying
Make you a pitch: when there's a glitch
Will man for mastery strive
Or will he refuse to flip off the switch
Because he thinks it's alive?