More Than a Mouthwash!

No god escapes the well wrought scope of man
Such as the micro, stetho, and peri.
We claim their domain with an increased span
When sensation and equipment marry.
Olympic lightning is tamed with a rod,
Like herds of sheep with the tap of a stick,
And now even the tide comes in a pod!
Poseidon himself never knew such a trick!
Ever and anon men are ascending
Past thunderclap mountains scraping the sky
And though mortality could use some mending
We love to aid our unaided eye!
In like fashion the poor will soon be rich
Since scope scratches curiosity's itch!