Half the purpose of rut,

And this is lust thought-of or futureless

Or used but lust to ease.

Do ye the circle true of love pretend,

And, what Nature, intend!

Do ye actually ache

The horse of lust by reins of life to bend

And pair in love for love's creating sake!

Bellow! Roar! Stallions be or bulls that fret

On their seed's hole to get!

Surge for that carnal complement that will

Your flesh's young juice thrill

To the wet mortised joints at which you meet

The coming life to greet,

In the tilled womb that will bulge till it do

The plenteous curve of spheric earth renew!

XXI

And ye, that wed to-day, guess these instincts

Of the concerted group in hints

Yourselves from Nature naturally have,

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