Aug 24, 2010

what no granola? no birkenstocks?

by E. F. Johnstone ~ 1950

I dreamed that I went to the city of gold,
To Heaven resplendent and fair;
And, after I entered that beautiful fold,
By one in authority there I was told 

That not a Vermonter was there!

"Impossible," said I. "A host from my town
Have sought this delectable place,
And each must be here with a harp and a crown,
A conqueror's palm and clean linen gown
Received through merited grace."

The angel replied, "All Vermonters come here
When first they depart from the earth,
But after a day or a month or a year
They restless and lonesome and homesick appear
And sigh for the land of their birth.

"They tell of its many and beautiful hills
Where forest majestic appear;
Its rivers and lakes and its streams and its hills
Where nature the purest of water distills,
And they soon get dissatisfied here."

"They tell of ravines, wild, secluded and deep,
Of clover-decked landscapes serene,
of towering mountains, imposing and steep
Adown which the torrents exulting leap
Through forests perennially green."

"We give them the best that the Kingdom provides,
They have everything here that they want;
But not a Vermonter in Heaven abides,
A very short time period here he resides,
Then hikes his way back to Vermont!"


No comments:

Post a Comment