If everyone could tempted be,
The rich, the poor man equally
The cowlèd nun, a shy recluse.
The city harlot lewdly loose.
The peasant uninitiate
The wise man in this learned state
What little virtue would remain
The devil points a richer gain.
But paint Hell's mystery in gold
With pleasure, wealth and joy untold.
Imagine Paradise in snow
No lasting peace; No sumptuous show.
Would priest still humbly bend the knee
Prepared to practise charity.
To follow unrewarded good.
As by the faith we're told we should.
L.F Fearby
1942
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem