Jim was a sinner, not hard as horn As others think, but a sinner still; Yet deep in the muck, there stands forlorn But shining, a princely act of will. To throw him to tridents of pricking imps Or the deceptive blue of a brimstone flame, To hell, in short, where no slightest glimpse Of hope cheers those but half to blame -- To treat him thus who, facing odds, Wrote large on the golden tome, a Deed, Would prove that Higher Justice also nods. It must not be. The heart's above the creed. For surely up there where the good man soars There must be crowns to polish, robes to crease, Harps to restring and other lowly chores Which, left to angels, might disturb the peace. Just the sort of job for grizzly Jim! I see him, halo at a rakish slant, Rubbing, lest the golden floor grow dim, Humming gently while the angels chant. They sit around his workshop after court, Try hard to look pained at his little joke, Wondering how he chanced to reach that Port, Jealous of the flask in his ragged poke. . . . Just a little reminder, in their home impearled, Of the Other World! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MILES KEOGH'S HORSE by JOHN MILTON HAY THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 7 by OMAR KHAYYAM THE CORAL INSECT by LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY VILLANELLE: AU RETOUR DU PRINTEMPS by PHILIP SCHUYLER ALLEN BEAUTIFUL WORLD! by JOHN STUART BLACKIE THE INNOCENT THIEF by VINCENT BOURNE |