Eugenic

If with Adam I had spent
Afternoon, and Eve had lent
Me her seat within the shade
I had spoken unafraid.

"Father of the human race,
What your pleading, what the grace,
For the coining multitude,
Your improvidence endued?

"Shall Eve drop upon the grass
Mortals Evil cannot pass
But her crooked hand is laid
With a blasting accolade?

"Or do you perceive a good;
Hope a shadowy rectitude
Shall establish them that come
When your wife and you are dumb?

"What your symbol—what the rule,
Barring the deformed, the fool?"
Adam muttered, where he sat,
"God forgot to tell me that."

And, by Moses, ever since,
When we think of it we wince.
What the future—what the stem?
Basta! Leave the crux to them.

Hubert Church.