You can be a poet, if you have a passion for it.

James Clerk Maxwell ... a physicist, a mathematician and a poet!

Born on June 13 1831, Maxwell was a Scottish theoretical physicist and mathematician. His most important achievement was classical electromagnetic theory. His set of equations—Maxwell's equations—demonstrated that electricity, magnetism and even light are all manifestations of the same phenomenon: the electromagnetic field. His work in producing a unified model of electromagnetism is considered to be one of the greatest advances in physics.

Maxwell also developed the Maxwell–Boltzmann distribution, a statistical means of describing aspects of the kinetic theory of gases. These two discoveries helped usher in the era of modern physics, laying the foundation for future work in such fields as special relativity and quantum mechanics. He died on November 5, 1879. (Info from Wikipedia)

His fascination for the scientific world did not stop him from expressing his observations, own thoughts and emotions in aesthetically organized poems. Below is an example...

Molecular Evolution

By James Clerk Maxwell

At quite uncertain times and places,

The atoms left their heavenly path,

And by fortuitous embraces,

Engendered all that being hath.

And though they seem to cling together,

And form “associations” here,

Yet, soon or late, they burst their tether,

And through the depths of space career.

So we who sat, oppressed with science,

As British asses, wise and grave,

Are now transformed to wild Red Lions,

As round our prey we ramp and rave.

Thus, by a swift metamorphosis,

Wisdom turns wit, and science joke,

Nonsense is incense to our noses,

For when Red Lions speak, they smoke.

Hail, Nonsense! dry nurse of Red Lions,

From thee the wise their wisdom learn,

From thee they cull those truths of science,

Which into thee again they turn.

What combinations of ideas,

Nonsense alone can wisely form!

What sage has half the power that she has,

To take the towers of Truth by storm?

Yield, then, ye rules of rigid reason!

Dissolve, thou too, too solid sense!

Melt into nonsense for a season,

Then in some nobler form condense.

Soon, all too soon, the chilly morning,

This flow of soul will crystallize,

Then those who Nonsense now are scorning,

May learn, too late, where wisdom lies.