THE RETIRED PREACHER

A MAN he was of most benignant mien,
Of portly size and countenance serene,
Who, though his flowing beard and locks were hoar,
Used no disgusting mixtures to restore.
Of genteel habits, cleanly to a fault,
Using no liquors, spirituous or malt.
Ruddy of cheek, and straight in back and limb,
No gout or rheumatism affected him.
Temperate in habit, frugal in his ways,
His life serenely ran to length of days.
Well versed in all the topics of the time,
A judge of prose and lover of good rhyme;
A writer too he was, of middling verse,
Of which full much he wrote, and often did rehearse.

Called early to the pulpit, nothing loth,
He pounded and expounded on the cloth
For three decades, in such a style and tone
He pleased the many while he angered none.
His little parish liked the young divine,
Whose voice was pleasant, and appearance fine.
He preached straightforwardly, in language plain,
And in good taste; nor did he preach in vain.
To him came offerings from the nests of hens,
Fat turkeys and young capons from their pens.
For him the holidays brought scented notes,
With gifts of slippers, dressing gowns and coats.
And, being well housed, with much to eat and wear,
He found his master’s cross an easy load to bear.

Always a fav’rite with the sisterhood,
Who found him so benevolent and good,
He knew the value of the softest place,
And dropped into it with a native grace.
Preaching forgiveness and the law of love,
He laid, no doubt, much treasure up above;
But, feeling earthly needs, ’tis also clear
He managed to lay by some treasure here,
Keeping himself quite harmless to the eyes
Of worldly people, he was also wise.
Pleasing, for he had studied how to please,
He passed the quiet days in virtuous ease,
While, spinning not, and liking ill to toil,
He still absorbed his share of carnal corn and oil.

Thus, walking pleasantly life’s fitful stage,
Good Doctor Mickle reached a green old age.
At sixty years, sedate, reserved and wise,
Full many sought the Doctor’s sage advice,
Accorded freely unto all who sought,
But most benignly to the ones who brought
Fresh girlish faces, with bright eyes and curls—
For he excelled in counseling young girls;
Giving much time to maiden protegés
In moonlight walks, beneath the village trees;
Leading the ductile mind in paths of peace,
Such as were taught in academic Greece,
Taking, no doubt, a mild platonic pride
In walking wisdom’s paths,—with Venus at his side.

Envious detraction, rife on every hand,
Admitted that the Doctor’s ways were bland,
His presence fine, with excellent physique.
Also, he knew some Latin and less Greek,
With just how far a Latin phrase should go,
And when ’twere wise to know—or not to know.
But his fine head, white with the frost of years,
Was all too heavy just behind the ears.
His piety, mixed with shrewd worldly sense,
The envious claimed as cunning and pretence.
And business men, of sharp, successful lives,
Eschewed his proteges when seeking wives,
Thinking the Doctor’s pleasant ways no less
Than private paths, well trodden to his own success.

And I? Well, I have naught to say,
Being outside of church dominion.
I let things wag the natural way
And leave each man his own opinion.