English poetry

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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.


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Poem Procreation - Robert William Service