THE Little Cherubs whispered, "What strange new soul is this Who cometh with a robe besmirched Unto the Place of Bliss?" Then spake the Eldest Angel, "The robe he wears is fair -- The groping fingers of the poor Have held and blessed him there." The Little Cherubs whispered, "Who comes to be our guest With dust about his garments' hem And stains upon his breast?" Then spake the Eldest Angel, "Most lovely is the stain -- The tears of those he comforted Who may not weep again." The Little Cherubs whispered, "What strange new soul is he Who cometh with a burden here And bears it tenderly?" Then spake the Eldest Angel, "He bears his life's award -- The burden of men's broken hearts To place before the Lord." "The dust upon his garments' hem -- My lips shall bow to it; The stains upon the breast of him Are gems thrice exquisite. O, little foolish Cherubs, What truth is this ye miss, @3There comes no saint to Paradise Who cometh not like this!"@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SMOKING SPIRITUALIZED by RALPH ERSKINE THE OLD FAMILIAR FACES by CHARLES LAMB STREET CORNER COLLEGE by KENNETH PATCHEN EPITAPHIUM CITHARISTRIAE by VICTOR GUSTAVE PLARR TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS HOOD by BARTHOLOMEW SIMMONS I HEAR AMERICA SINGING by WALT WHITMAN WHISPERS OF HEAVENLY DEATH by WALT WHITMAN |