A dissenter by birth, and in Kendal well trapped,
But at twenty-six he left it behind.
In Manchester, John Gouge’s knowledge was tapped,
A case of the blind leading the (colour) blind.
A fan of the weather, he spent holidays fully wrapped,
Climbing the fells to measure and to unwind.
Did the sunsets that kissed those lands unseen,
Appear orange or yellow or green?
To describe first in print the atomic notion,
Marked him out to be of fabulous mind.
His research put pure theory into motion,
And removed shackles that had once confined.
A modest life was lead, yet one full of devotion,
With a portfolio that he left for mankind.
Struck from our lives, leaving us wanting more,
His presence still lives, just off the A34.
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