Above God's head a dozen suns kept guard
Like sentinels. Her erring feet were led
Up to a crowded mount, where God's regard
Was fixed upon her, while He gravely said:
"Anne Kinfoot, worthy mother, and good wife,
Your weakness and your faults are all forgiven;
Go you, my child, to everlasting life,
And take your husband, also, up to Heaven."
But she could see the Counsellors and Kings
And brilliant bearers of a famous name,
Tangled with snakes and horrid crawling things
Sent down to torture and eternal flame.
Then Mrs. Kinfoot lied in agony: "Oh, Lord,
I am as others of my class and station,"
She cried, "Oh, have me bound, and burnt and gored
Oh! send me down to suffer my damnation.
I swear I beat my children!" Oh, despondent
She was; "I am a sinner. I will tell
How I escaped a Ducal Co-respondent
Last year—my God—I must insist on—Hell.
But the Great Judge was not deceived—He knew
The worthy virtue of the Kinfoot line;
Yet as she went to Heaven, constant, true
To principle, she murmured, "Will you dine
To meet..." but dragged away, she dwells on high
And notes, but rather disapproves the eccentricity
Of Saints and Early Christians, who try
To lessen the burden of her domesticity.
She has to play upon a golden harp,
Join in the chorus of the heavenly choir;
Her answers to the Saints are sometimes sharp,
She longs to singe her wings, and share the fire.
Night never comes, so when she tries to flee
To that perpetual party down below,
The angels catch her, shouting out with glee,
"Dear Mrs. Kinfoot—you are good!——We know!"