She died in a disarrayed garret In a vacuous sort of a house. The lords of the rafters were sorry -- The spider, the moth, and the mouse. They felt that a burden was on them. Surmising the needs of a soul, In conclave they swore to her virtues And crisscrossed a character scroll. The spider concocted a halo, It floated a flat balloon; The moth made the sign of the pinions That opened the first cocoon; The mouse did a modesty duty, He loosened the strings of her shoes, For a saint must go barefoot to Zion Or how could the angels enthuse? They bowed to the yoke of the legend, The spider, the moth and the mouse -- They were sending a real one to Heaven And out of their very own house. Now garbing a saint for a survey Entitles the garrets and slums To the right of the line with the colors, To act as an escort with drums, To call upon Minn for the mantles Prescribed for a walled-in town, To ask for an issue of ermine To broider a new renown. So the moth and the mouse and the spider, Discarding their old restraint, Went forth in the raiment awarded, And Heaven accepted their saint. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DAY IN BED by KATHERINE MANSFIELD BUCOLIC COMEDY: FLEECING TIME by EDITH SITWELL FOR ONCE, THEN, SOMETHING by ROBERT FROST GOOD AND BAD LUCK by HEINRICH HEINE THE 'MONSTRE' BALLOON by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE PRETENCE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |