On the Comet's bulletin What a summary of sin, What a dress-parade of woe, As editions come and go! Murders, riots, failures, fights, Suicides, explosions, blights, Fires, divorces, accidents, Lynchings and embezzlements, Slanders, war, and burglaries, Arson, poison, things like these Fill that catalogue of sin, Crowd the Comet's bulletin. Ah, could I, some merry day, Steal that bulletin away And establish where it stood A compendium of good, Setting forth, in eager phrase Brighter hopes and better days! Gifts that calm the widow's fears, Love that dries the mourner's tears, Brave endurance of distress, Deeds of high unselfishness, Daring succor, debts forgiven, Spirits snatched from hell to heaven, Self-denials, sacrifice, Honesty that has no price, Eager age and prudent youth, Bold defence of scouted truth, Patient plodding crowned at length, Hero use of hero strength, -- These and such as these would win Place upon my bulletin. But, I wonder -- see the horde There before the Comet's board, Open-mouthed and gulping in All that register of sin! Should I fill that focal place With my catalogue of grace, Were the substitute allowed, Would it, would it, hold the crowd? |