A Ballad Of Religion And Marriage

Swept into limbo is the host

   Of heavenly angels, row on row;

The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,

   Pale and defeated, rise and go.

The great Jehovah is laid low,

   Vanished his burning bush and rod—

Say, are we doomed to deeper woe?

   Shall marriage go the way of God?

Monogamous, still at our post,

   Reluctantly we undergo

Domestic round of boiled and roast,

   Yet deem the whole proceeding slow.

Daily the secret murmurs grow;

   We are no more content to plod

Along the beaten paths—and so

   Marriage must go the way of God.

Soon, before all men, each shall toast

   The seven strings unto his bow,

Like beacon fires along the coast,

   The flame of love shall glance and glow.

Nor let nor hindrance man shall know,

   From natal bath to funeral sod;

Perennial shall his pleasures flow

   When marriage goes the way of God.

Grant, in a million years at most,

   Folk shall be neither pairs nor odd—

Alas! we sha'n't be there to boast

   "Marriage has gone the way of God!"