A Meeting + 

“Good morning,” said Garfield, extending his hand, + 

To Mr. Parnell in the Heavenly Land. + 

“Good morning, good morning,” said Mr. Parnell; + 

“I hope (though ’tis needless to ask) you are well. + 

How sweetly that chorus of cherubim sings! + 

Pray how do you manage these cumbersome wings? + 

This halo⁠—I dare say I’m terribly green, + 

But somehow I can’t make it hold my dudheen. + 

This harp is all right, but the shamrock I miss, + 

And⁠—O, by the way, in this region of bliss + 

I trust that the rascally schemer who wrote + 

The Morey epistle, which lost you the vote + 

Electoral, I am not likely to meet?” + 

Then Garfield, his eyes on the cloud at his feet, + 

Burned in the cheeks with a fervor divine + 

That conquered his halo’s inferior shine; + 

Then said, with a look that was level and far: + 

“I fear (to be honest and frank) that you are. + 

The person who wrote that mysterious, queer, + 

Bad letter is here⁠—ah, exceedingly here.” + 

And he smiled in an infantile sort of a way, + 

Like a man with a qualm, and went on to say: + 

“I’m happy to meet you. What news from below? + 

Did it look when you left there as if they would show + 

Who wrote, with a villainous purpose in view, + 

The peppery letters imputed to you?” + 

Said Mr. Parnell: “Yes, it did, I must say⁠— + 

In fact, that’s the reason I hastened away.” + 

Then they sang a psalm, and they sang so well + 

That Murchison heard it while sobbing in Hell. + 