Classic Poem

GOOD F RIDAY

Go on! Go on!
Don't wait for me!
Isaac was Abraham's son —
Yes, certainly —
And as they clomb Moriah —
I know! I know!
A type of the Messiah —
Just so! just so!
Perfectly right; and then the ram
Caught in the — listening? Why of course I am!
Wherefore, my brethren, that was counted — yes —
To Abraham for righteousness —
Exactly, so I said —
At least — but go a-head!
Now mark
The conduct of the Patriarch —
" Behold the wood! "
Isaac exclaimed — By Jove, an Oxford hood!
" But where " —
What long straight hair!
" Where is the lamb? "
You mean — the ram:
No, no! I beg you pardon!
There's the Churchwarden,
In the Clerk's pew —
Stick tipped with blue —
Now Justification —
" By Faith? " I fancy; Aye, the old equation;
Go it, Justice! Go it, Mercy!
Go it, Douglas! Go it, Percy!
I back the winner,
And have a vague conception of the sinner —
Limbs nude,
Horatian attitude,
Nursing his foot in Sublapsarian mood —
More power
To you my friend! you're good for half-an-hour.
Dry bones! dry bones!
But in my ear the long-drawn west wind moans,
Sweet voices seem to murmur from the wave;
And I can sit, and look upon the stones
That cover Hallam's grave.