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Mere Christianity by C. S. Lewis
An Epithaliamium

So Man, grown vigorous now,
Holds himself ripe to breed,
Daily devises how
To ******* his seed
And boldly fertilize
The black **** of the unconsenting skies.

Some now alive expect
(I am told) to see the large,
Steel member grow *****,
Turgid with the fierce charge
Of our whole planet's skill,
Courage, wealth, knowledge, concentrated will,

Straining with **** to stamp
Our likeness on the abyss-
Bombs, gallows, Belsen camp,
Pox, polio, Thais' kiss
Or Judas, Moloch's fires
And Torquemada's (sons resemble sires).

Shall we, when the grim shape
Roars upward, dance and sing?
Yes: if we honour ****,
If we take pride to Ring
So bountifully on space
The ***** of our long woes, our large disgrace.
Book: Mere Christianity by C. S. Lewis
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