WHEN you paced forth, to wait maternity, br A dream of other offspring held my mind, br Compounded of us twain as Love designed; br Rare forms, that corporate now will never be! br br Should I, too, wed as slave to Mode's decree, br And each thus found apart, of false desire, br A stolid line, whom no high aims will fire br As had fired ours could ever have mingled we; br br And, grieved that lives so matched should miscompose, br Each mourn the double waste; and question dare br To the Great Dame whence incarnation flows, br Why those high-purposed children never were: br What will she answer? That she does not care br If the race all such sovereign types unknows.