To - When You Paced Forth, To Wait Maternity, A Dream Of Other Offspring Held My Mind, Compounded Of Us Twain As Love Designed; Rare Forms, That Corporate Now Will Never Be! Should I, Too, Wed As Slave To Mode'S Decree, And Each Thus Found Apart, Of False Desire, A Stolid Line, Whom No High Aims Will Fire As Had Fired Ours Could Ever Have Mingled We; And, Grieved That Lives So Matched Should Mis-Compose, Each Mourn The Double Waste; And Question Dare To The Great Dame Whence Incarnation Flows. Why Those High-Purposed Children Never Were: What Will She Answer? That She Does Not Care If The Race All Such Sovereign Types Unknows. 1866.