Classic Poem

When after God had made the world
And called his labor good,
Then came the devil sneaking up
And in his presence stood,
And craved this boon from Heaven's Lord:—
“Now grant me, Mighty One,
That I may add one little thing
To this that Thou hast done.”
“Thy plea is granted, Fallen One,”
Replied Creation's Glory—
The Devil forthwith slunk away
Into his laboratory.

He emptied a sack of self-esteem,
A crock of crocodile's eyes,
A jar of jaundiced jealousies,
A litre of liquid lies,
A pinch of fear, a dash of hate,
He added to the mess,
Then moistened it into stickiness
With the sauce of selfishness.
With envy, malice and arrogance
He rounded out his plan,
And with impish art he fashioned all
Into the shape of man.

He breathed the breath of an endless curse
Into the breast of it:
Then launched to earth—a fiendish gift—
The all-round Hypocrite!