Bias, propensity or passion
That is in prevalence and fashion,
Save one, the sufferer or lover
May, by the grace of God, recover:
Alone that spiritual tetter,
The zeal to make creation better,
Glows still immedicably warmer.
Who knows of a reformed reformer?
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Saint Peter, standing at the Gate, beheld
A pleasant soul as ever was, he seemed:His step was joyous and his visage beamed.‘Good morning, Peter.’ There was just a touchOf foreign accent, but not overmuch.The Saint bent gravely, like a stately tree,And said: ‘You have the advantage, sir, of me.’‘Renan of Paris,’ said the immortal part‘A master of the literary art.‘I’m somewhat famous,…
A famous journalist, who long
Whate’er they thought, by day or night.Was true as Holy Writ, and right,Was caught in-well, on second thought,It is enough that he was caught,And being thrown in jail becameThe fuel of a public flame.‘_Vox populi vox Dei_,’ saidThe jailer. Inxling bent his headWithout remark: that motto goodIn bold-faced type had always stoodAbove the columns where…
Weep, weep, each loyal partisan,
A most accomplished man; a manOf parts-of foreign parts.Long years he ruled with gentle sway,Nor grew his glory dim;And he would be with us to-dayIf we were but with him.Men wondered at his going offIn such a sudden way;‘Twas thought, as he had come to scoffHe would remain to prey.Since he is gone we’re all…
The Church’s compass, if you please,
Of variation;And many a soul has gone to griefOn this or that or t’other reefThrough faith unreckoning or briefMiscalculation.Misguidance is of perils chiefTo navigation.The obsequious thing makes, too, you’ll mark,Obeisance through a little arcOf declination;For Satan, fearing witches, drewFrom Death’s pale horse, one day, a shoe,And nailed it to his door to undoTheir machination.Since then…
Precursor of our woes, historic spade,
On thee I see the maculating stainsOf passengers’ commingled blood and brains.In this red rust a widow’s curse appears,And here an orphan tarnished thee with tears.Upon thy handle sanguinary bandsReveal the clutching of thine owner’s handsWhen first he wielded thee with vigor braveTo cut a sod and dig a people’s grave(For they who are debauched…
Once with Christ he entered Salem,
Once by Apuleius stagedHe the pious much enraged.And, again, his head, as beaver,Topped the neck of Nick the Weaver.Omar saw him (minus tetherFree and wanton as the weather:Knowing naught of bit or spur)Stamping over Bahram-Gur.Now, as Altgeld, see him joyAs Governor of Illinois!