EPILOGUE - or CATALOGUE ...

[Finale from Caternalia]

St. Peter took his last-night look
Around the Courts of Heaven;
He’d locked the Golden Gates up fast,
Turned all the stars down even.
And every Saint was in his bed
With cloudy duvet o’er him,
Be-pillowed every haloed head,
And hushed was each “Adore Him!”

But as the Saint turned down the lamp
Beside the Golden Gateway,
He heard a patter through the stars:
“Who cometh here, so late, hey?”
And Cat ran up, slipped through the Gate,
Rubbed, purring, round St. Peter:
Said he: “Good Saint, may I come in,
For Heaven with me is - sweeter?”

The Saint’s grave brow grew stern and grim.
“Now answer,” he demanded,
“What have you done for the good of Man,
For ‘twas good our God commanded!
But you - you have hunted the small and weak,
You have stolen the food from Man’s table -
You have used Man for your own ends alone.
Where is good in you, fact or fable?”

Then Cat sat down and he licked his paw,
And he touched up his ear and whisker,
And Cat looked up and Saint looked down,
And Peter’s shrewd gaze grew - brisker.
And he smiled a small smile, as he looked at Cat,
And he said: “Man never owned you,
For God made you for Himself - for fun!
- And He to Man has but loaned you!”

St. Peter reached his holy hand

Beneath Cat’s chin to tickle,
The while Cat preened and arched and purred:
Quoth Saint: “Aye, your sins be mickle!
BUT - the good you have done is to make Man glad.
In the bread of his life you’re the leaven,
So come in, Cat, and sit by God’s own hearth,
And gladden the Courts of Heaven!”
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