Poems (Merrill)/Dennis O'Neil's Dream
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DENNIS O'NEIL'S DREAM
Dennis O'Neil fell asleep one day
And he dreamed from this life he had passed away
And went to Heaven, where, at the Gate
'Mong other pilgrims, he had to wait
'Till came his turn to ask for grace
To pass through the gates of that Holy place.
At length the vast throng ceased to flow—
A few entered the gate—the rest went below—
And he found himself waiting where others had been
'Till St. Peter should come and usher him in.
Soon he heard the sound of hurrying feet
Echoing out from the pearly street;
And, looking up, his eyes behold
Not the Saint—but a friend of the days of old.
With joyful smile they meet, embrace,
And tenderly gaze in each others face.
"Why Pat, old friend, so it appears
You, too, have left the 'Vale of Tears'
No more to dwell mid scenes of woe
And the din and strife of the World below.
How is it, then, do you think that I
Can gain admittance if I try?
A plea for me of course you'll make
In my behalf for friendship's sake.
"What must I do—if there should be
A vacant place in there for me—
Tell me now, I ask of you
What is the first thing I must do'
"First," then said Pat, "Inside the gates
A pure and spotless Book awaits
Where you—like each and every one
Must write your name, What you have done,
Your faults, your sins, every time you have lied,
That you can recall till the day that you died.—
Every dishonest act write out plainly and bold—
For your chances are lost if one thing you withhold!
"And how long is it, I'd like to know
Pat, since you left the world below?"—
"If I mistake not, it is ten
Years I've with patience held the pen."—
"What errand calls you forth this morn?"
"More ink," said Pat, "I must hasten on."
"Ten years since you've been in this clime—
And you've been writing all the time!
Begorry then, its more than 'tis worth—
And I think, on the whole, I'll go back to the Earth.
—For really, you see, 'tis not worthy the strife—
Sure, 'twould kape me at work all the days of me life!"
And he dreamed from this life he had passed away
And went to Heaven, where, at the Gate
'Mong other pilgrims, he had to wait
'Till came his turn to ask for grace
To pass through the gates of that Holy place.
At length the vast throng ceased to flow—
A few entered the gate—the rest went below—
And he found himself waiting where others had been
'Till St. Peter should come and usher him in.
Soon he heard the sound of hurrying feet
Echoing out from the pearly street;
And, looking up, his eyes behold
Not the Saint—but a friend of the days of old.
With joyful smile they meet, embrace,
And tenderly gaze in each others face.
"Why Pat, old friend, so it appears
You, too, have left the 'Vale of Tears'
No more to dwell mid scenes of woe
And the din and strife of the World below.
How is it, then, do you think that I
Can gain admittance if I try?
A plea for me of course you'll make
In my behalf for friendship's sake.
"What must I do—if there should be
A vacant place in there for me—
Tell me now, I ask of you
What is the first thing I must do'
"First," then said Pat, "Inside the gates
A pure and spotless Book awaits
Where you—like each and every one
Must write your name, What you have done,
Your faults, your sins, every time you have lied,
That you can recall till the day that you died.—
Every dishonest act write out plainly and bold—
For your chances are lost if one thing you withhold!
"And how long is it, I'd like to know
Pat, since you left the world below?"—
"If I mistake not, it is ten
Years I've with patience held the pen."—
"What errand calls you forth this morn?"
"More ink," said Pat, "I must hasten on."
"Ten years since you've been in this clime—
And you've been writing all the time!
Begorry then, its more than 'tis worth—
And I think, on the whole, I'll go back to the Earth.
—For really, you see, 'tis not worthy the strife—
Sure, 'twould kape me at work all the days of me life!"