The Parson and the Prelate

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.