Shapes of Clay Part 8

Quoth he--"ick, bick, ban, doe,--I'm It!"

(His headstone, footstone, counted slow, Were "ick" and "bick," he "ban" and "doe":

Of beating Nick the subtle art Was part of his immortal part.)

Then straight to Heaven he took his flight, Arriving at the Gates of Light.

There Warden Peter, in the throes Of sleep, lay roaring in the nose.

"Get up, you sluggard!" Dana cried-- "I've an engagement there inside."

The Saint arose and scratched his head.

"I recollect your face," he said.

"(And, pardon me, 't is rather hard), But----" Dana handed him a card.

"Ah, yes, I now remember--bless My soul, how dull I am I--yes, yes,

"We've nothing better here than bliss.

Walk in. But I must tell you this:

"We've rest and comfort, though, and peace."

"H'm--puddles," Dana said, "for geese.

"Have you in Heaven no h.e.l.l?" "Why, no,"

Said Peter, "nor, in truth, below.

"'T is not included in our scheme-- 'T is but a preacher's idle dream."

The great man slowly moved away.

"I'll call," he said, "another day.

"On earth I played it, o'er and o'er, And Heaven without it were a bore."

"O, stuff!--come in. You'll make," said Pete, "A h.e.l.l where'er you set your feet."

1885.

CONTEMPLATION.

I muse upon the distant town In many a dreamy mood.

Above my head the sunbeams crown The graveyard's giant rood.

The lupin blooms among the tombs.

The quail recalls her brood.

Ah, good it is to sit and trace The shadow of the cross; It moves so still from place to place O'er marble, bronze and moss; With graves to mark upon its arc Our time's eternal loss.

And sweet it is to watch the bee That reve's in the rose, And sense the fragrance floating free On every breeze that blows O'er many a mound, where, safe and sound, Mine enemies repose.

CREATION.

G.o.d dreamed--the suns sprang flaming into place, And sailing worlds with many a venturous race!

He woke--His smile alone illumined s.p.a.ce.

BUSINESS.

Two villains of the highest rank Set out one night to rob a bank.

They found the building, looked it o'er, Each window noted, tried each door, Scanned carefully the lidded hole For minstrels to cascade the coal-- In short, examined five-and-twenty Good paths from poverty to plenty.

But all were sealed, they saw full soon, Against the minions of the moon.

"Enough," said one: "I'm satisfied."

The other, smiling fair and wide, Said: "I'm as highly pleased as you: No burglar ever can get through.

Fate surely prospers our design-- The booty all is yours and mine."

So, full of hope, the following day To the exchange they took their way And bought, with manner free and frank, Some stock of that devoted bank; And they became, inside the year, One President and one Cashier.

Their crime I can no further trace-- The means of safety to embrace, I overdrew and left the place.

A POSSIBILITY.

If the wicked G.o.ds were willing (Pray it never may be true!) That a universal chilling Should ensue Of the sentiment of loving,-- If they made a great undoing Of the plan of turtle-doving, Then farewell all poet-lore, Evermore.

If there were no more of billing There would be no more of cooing And we all should be but owls-- Lonely fowls Blinking wonderfully wise, With our great round eyes-- Sitting singly in the gloaming and no longer two and two, As unwilling to be wedded as unpracticed how to woo; With regard to being mated, Asking still with aggravated Ungrammatical acerbity: "To who? To who?"

TO A CENSOR.

"The delay granted by the weakness and good nature of our judges is responsible for half the murders."--_Daily Newspaper_.

Delay responsible? Why, then; my friend, Impeach Delay and you will make an end.

Thrust vile Delay in jail and let it rot For doing all the things that it should not.

Put not good-natured judges under bond, But make Delay in damages respond.

Minos, Aeacus, Rhadamanthus, rolled Into one pitiless, unsmiling scold-- Unsparing censor, be your thongs uncurled To "lash the rascals naked through the world."