Procreation

 It hurts my pride that I should be
 The issue of a night of lust;
Yet even Bishops, you'll agree,
 Obey the biologic 'must';
Though no doubt with more dignity
 Than we of layman dust.

I think the Lord made a mistake
 When he designed the human race,
That man and angel in the make
 Should have brutality for base.
Jehovah might have planned at least
 Not to confound us with the beast.

So with humiliation I
 Think of my basic origin;
And yet with some relief I sigh,--
 I might have been conceived in sin;
Instead of being, I believe,
 The offspring of a nuptial eve.

So when I look in beauty's face,
 Or that of king or saint or sage,
It seems to me I darkly trace
 Their being to a rutting rage . . .
Had I been Deity's adviser
 Meseems I might have planned it wiser.

Form: Iambic Pentameter

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