A little book of tribune verse A number of hitherto uncollected poems, grave and gay |
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PARADISE REGAINED. |
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 | A little book of tribune verse |  |
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PARADISE REGAINED.
Once on a time a man did die,
And bursting forth, his soul flew straight,
Up to the pearly realms on high
Where good St. Peter kept the gate.
And bursting forth, his soul flew straight,
Up to the pearly realms on high
Where good St. Peter kept the gate.
The sainted Peter shook his head
And would not lend a pitying ear,
“Such worthless folks as you,” he said,
“Need make no application here!”
And would not lend a pitying ear,
“Such worthless folks as you,” he said,
“Need make no application here!”
In vain the hapless soul implored,
The warden bade him go to grass,
In vain he begged and mourned and roared,
St. Peter would not let him pass,
The warden bade him go to grass,
In vain he begged and mourned and roared,
St. Peter would not let him pass,
Till, goaded on by misery's stings,
And tortured by revenge and spite
That soul drew back and flapped its wings,
And crowed three times with all its might.
And tortured by revenge and spite
That soul drew back and flapped its wings,
And crowed three times with all its might.
St. Peter blushed a scarlet blush,
“Pass in,” he cried, “I'll check your hat,
Don't be personal, but hush
In future all such sounds as that!”
“Pass in,” he cried, “I'll check your hat,
Don't be personal, but hush
In future all such sounds as that!”
Your soul may be as white as snow,
Your life be full of good intent,
'Twill matter not, some one will know
The record to your detriment.
Your life be full of good intent,
'Twill matter not, some one will know
The record to your detriment.
October 31st, 1882.
| A little book of tribune verse | |