A Mount Erupteth
Come, fathom with me,
Quoth the man to his boy,
His arms upon the tanner did he employ.
The boy approached,
His throat encroached,
By the eyes of the father,
Those eyes, the man who mauled her.
Can not ye see the plume
Riseth upon the way?
Such volcanic ash it spews,
Such pain to the devil it shall pay.
Can not ye seeth, my boy?
Can not ye see the smoke?
Holy martyr, Father, take my hand,
Curse me not for this yon bloke!
But the boy did not respond,
He did not raise a finger.
A heap, a hopeless despot,
His pain in his heart doth linger.
Quoth the man,
HARK! HARK! for ye battlements,
Oh Lord, our God in heaven.
Make not this boy your cavalry,
Make not his heart unfettered.
To spray for ye such plumes,
Such a facsimile of thine greatness,
Please Lord, have pity on me, please,
Have pity on my faithless!
The man began to cry,
Held his face in his hands,
And his jerking body tore away,
Away from the boy, towards the death.
Quoth the boy,
Our Father who art in heaven,
Hallowed by thy name,
Thy Kingdom come,
Thy will be done,
On earth as it is in heaven.
He knew not the rest,
And ne’er would he learn,
For that tumbling death approacheth.
Heaven did the boy earn.
