XX

But these are thoughts or promises or but 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!