The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
 | I, II. |
| III, IV. |
| V. |
| VI, VII. |
 | VIII, IX. |
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THE CHERRIES.
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| 2. |
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| X. |
 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore |  |
290
THE CHERRIES.
A PARABLE.
1828.
See those cherries, how they cover
Yonder sunny garden wall;—
Had they not that network over,
Thieving birds would eat them all.
Yonder sunny garden wall;—
Had they not that network over,
Thieving birds would eat them all.
So, to guard our posts and pensions,
Ancient sages wove a net,
Through whose holes, of small dimensions,
Only certain knaves can get.
Ancient sages wove a net,
Through whose holes, of small dimensions,
Only certain knaves can get.
Shall we then this network widen?
Shall we stretch these sacred holes,
Through which, ev'n already, slide in
Lots of small dissenting souls?
Shall we stretch these sacred holes,
Through which, ev'n already, slide in
Lots of small dissenting souls?
291
“God forbid!” old Testy crieth;
“God forbid!” so echo I;
Every ravenous bird that flieth
Then would at our cherries fly.
“God forbid!” so echo I;
Every ravenous bird that flieth
Then would at our cherries fly.
Ope but half an inch or so,
And, behold, what bevies break in;—
Here, some curst old Popish crow
Pops his long and lickerish beak in;
And, behold, what bevies break in;—
Here, some curst old Popish crow
Pops his long and lickerish beak in;
Here, sly Arians flock unnumber'd,
And Socinians, slim and spare,
Who, with small belief encumber'd,
Slip in easy any where;—
And Socinians, slim and spare,
Who, with small belief encumber'd,
Slip in easy any where;—
Methodists, of birds the aptest,
Where there's pecking going on;
And that water-fowl, the Baptist—
All would share our fruits anon;
Where there's pecking going on;
And that water-fowl, the Baptist—
All would share our fruits anon;
Ev'ry bird, of ev'ry city,
That, for years, with ceaseless din,
Hath revers'd the starling's ditty,
Singing out “I can't get in.”
That, for years, with ceaseless din,
Hath revers'd the starling's ditty,
Singing out “I can't get in.”
292
“God forbid!” old Testy snivels;
“God forbid!” I echo too;
Rather may ten thousand d*v*ls
Seize the whole voracious crew!
“God forbid!” I echo too;
Rather may ten thousand d*v*ls
Seize the whole voracious crew!
If less costly fruit wo'n't suit 'em,
Hips and haws and such like berries,
Curse the corm'rants! stone 'em, shoot 'em,
Any thing—to save our cherries.
Hips and haws and such like berries,
Curse the corm'rants! stone 'em, shoot 'em,
Any thing—to save our cherries.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | |