I SAW a Parson on a bike—
A parody on things—
His coat-tails flapped behind him like
A pair of caudal wings.
His coat was of the shiny green,
His hat was rusty brown;
He was a weird, wild sight, I ween,
Careering through the town.
What perched him on a wheel at all,
And made him race and rip?
Had he, perchance, a sudden call
To some rich rectorship?
He’d no such call; he raced and ran
To kneel and pray beside
The bedside of a dying man,
Who poor as Peter died.
I saw a Prelate, plump and fine,
Who gleamed with sanctity;
He was the finest-groomed divine
That you would wish to see.
His smile was bland; his air was grand;
His coat was black, and shone
As did the tents of Kedar and
The robes of Solomon.
And in a carriage fine and fair
He lounged in lordly ease—
It was a carriage and a pair—
And nursed his gaitered knees.
And whither went he, and what for,
With all this pomp and show?
He went to see the Governor,
And that is all I know.
But in a vision of the night,
When deep dreams come to men,
I saw a strange and curious sight—
The Prelate once again.
He sat ungaitered, and undone,
A picture of dismay—
His carriage was too broad to run
Along the Narrow Way!
But, with his coat-tails flapping like
Black caudal wings in wrath,
I saw the Parson on the bike
Sprint up the Shining Path.