By parables and by example,
He made each market-place a temple.
He thus in peace of mind one day
To some small town with them did stray,
Saw something glitter in the street,
A broken horseshoe lay at his feet.
He then to Peter turned and said:
"Pick up that iron in my stead."
St. Peter out of humour was,
Having in dreams indulged because
All men on thoughts so like to dwell,
How they the world would govern well;
Here fancy revels without bounds;
On this his dearest thoughts he founds.
This treasure-trove he quite despised,
But crowned sceptre he'd have prized;
And why should he now bend his back
To put old iron in his sack?
He turned aside with outward show
As though he heard none speaking so!
The Lord, to his long-suffering true,
Himself picked up the horse's shoe,
And of it made no further mention,
But to the town walked with intention
Of going to a blacksmith's door,
Who gave one farthing for his store.
And now, when through the market strolling,
Cherries some one he heard extolling.
Of these he bought as few or many
As farthing buys, if it buy any,
Which he, in wonted peacefulness,
Gently within his sleeve did press.
Now out at t'other gate they'd gone
