Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/133

Rh So Deacon Gray dropt in

With a kind and neighborly air,

And before he left he knelt on the floor

And wrestled with God in prayer.

And he said: "O Lord, Thou hast stricken

This soul in its babyhood;

In Thy own way, we beseech and pray,

Bring forth from evil good."

III

That night the fire-bells rang

And the flames shot up to the sky,

And into the street as pale as a sheet

The town-folk flock and cry.

The bells ring loud and long,

The flames leap high and higher,

The rattling engines come too late—

The old First Church is on fire!

And lo and behold in the crimson glare

They see John Carman stand—

A look of mirth on his iron lips

And a blazing torch in his hand.

You say it was He who killed her"

(His voice had a fearful sound):

I'd have you know, who love Him so,

I've burned His house to the ground."

John Carman died in prison,

In the madman's cell, they say;

And from his crime, that I've told in rhyme,

Heaven cleanse his soul, I pray.