The sickly airs had died of damp;
  Through huddling leaves the holy chime
Flagged; I, expecting Mrs. Gamp,
  Thought—­“Will the woman come in time?”
Upstairs I knew the matron bed
  Held her whose name confirms all joy
To me; and tremblingly I said,
  “Ah! will it be a girl or boy?”
And, soothed, my fluttering doubts began
  To sift the pleasantness of things;
Developing the unshapen man,
  An eagle baffled of his wings;
Considering, next, how fair the state
  And large the license that sublimes
A nineteenth-century female fate—­
  Sweet cause that thralls my liberal rhymes! 
And Chastities and colder Shames,
  Decorums mute and marvellous,
And fair Behaviour that reclaims
  All fancies grown erroneous,
Moved round me musing, till my choice
  Faltered.  A female in a wig
Stood by me, and a drouthy voice
  Announced her—­Mrs. Betsy Prig.

2.  The caudle

Sweet Love that sways the reeling years,
  The crown and chief of certitudes,
For whose calm eyes and modest ears
  Time writes the rule and text of prudes—­
That, surpliced, stoops a nuptial head,
  Nor chooses to live blindly free,
But, with all pulses quieted,
  Plays tunes of domesticity—­
That Love I sing of and have sung
  And mean to sing till Death yawn sheer,
He rules the music of my tongue,
  Stills it or quickens, there or here. 
I say but this:  as we went up
  I heard the Monthly give a sniff
And “if the big dog makes the pup—­”
  She murmured—­then repeated “if!”
The caudle on a slab was placed;
  She snuffed it, snorting loud and long;
I fled—­I would not stop to taste—­
  And dreamed all night of things gone wrong.

3.  The sentences

I

Abortive Love is half a sin;
  But Love’s abortions dearer far
Than wheels without an axle-pin
  Or life without a married star.

II

My rules are hard to understand
  For him whom sensual rules depress;
A bandbox in a midwife’s hand
  May hold a costlier bridal dress.

III

“I like her not; in fact I loathe;
  Bugs hath she brought from London beds.” 
Friend! wouldst thou rather bear their growth
  Or have a baby with two heads?

IDYL CCCLXVI

THE KID

My spirit, in the doorway’s pause,
  Fluttered with fancies in my breast;
Obsequious to all decent laws,
  I felt exceedingly distressed. 
I knew it rude to enter there
  With Mrs. V. in such a state;
And, ’neath a magisterial air,
  Felt actually indelicate. 
I knew the nurse began to grin;
  I turned to greet my Love.  Said she—­
“Confound your modesty, come in! 
  —­What shall we call the darling, V.?”
(There are so many charming names! 
  Girls’—­Peg, Moll, Doll, Fan, Kate, Blanche, Bab: 
Boys’—­Mahershahal-hashbaz, James,
  Luke, Nick, Dick, Mark, Aminadab.)