Robert William Service
The Biologic Urge
Confound all aberrations which
Make men do foolish things,
Like buying bracelets for a bitch,
Or witless wedding rings.
As if we had not woe enough
Our simple souls to vex,
Without that brand of trouble stuff
We label Sex.
Has science not the means produced
For human propagation,
By artificially induced
Then every man might be a priest,
And every maid a nun . . .
Oh well, as chaste as they at least,--
But nix on fun.
Just think how we would grow in grace
If lust we could exclude;
Then innocence might take its place,
--Well, in a sense it could.
How we would be forever free
From passions that perplex!
What peace on earth if only we
Could outlaw Sex!
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Comments about this poem (The Biologic Urge by Robert William Service )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(24 January 1572 - 31 March 1631)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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