The poem
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.