File:At the sign of the dollar (1905) (14580738347).jpg

Identifier: atsignofdollar00irwi (find matches)
Title: At the sign of the dollar
Year: 1905 (1900s)
Authors: Irwin, Wallace, 1876-1959
Subjects:
Publisher: New York, Fox, Duffield & company
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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Pierpont Morgan or some Books from Andrew C. The missionary packed his grip, and naught he had to say,But with a tired, discouraged air he sadly turned away,Then whistled for the pilot-boat and silently withdrewFrom Emperor To-Tommy of the isle of Gumbo Goo. IF CHRIST SHOULD GO TO CHURCH Bare of head and bare of feetChrist and Poverty walked the street, Past the curse and the muck and the grime,Past the door and the haunt of crime. Past the glare and the flaunt of sin,And it was a Church that he entered in. The Christmas prayer at the desk was said,And the Rich Parishioner bowed his head. Through the carven oak of the organ-loftThe golden music trembled soft, And a high-priced tenor, sweet of throat,Poured through the arches his mellow note. In the velvet reach of each cushioned pewThe pampered worshippers dozed, for theyknew The gifts and bequests that could insureTheir seats in the House of God secure. O come, all ye faithful! the pastor said.And the Rich Parishioner bowed his head.
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AT THE SIGN OF THE DOLLAR 31 Velvet and furs on every side,Sloth and fatness, vanity, pride, Then where in the Temple of Prayer was a seatFor the tattered of gown and the bare of feet? Sat a simple bench by the panelled door.* Reserved for the Poor was the sign it bore. And the Poor Parishioner huddled thereâSmall place had he in the Temple of Prayer. Old and feeble and mendicant,Yet humble withal and a suppliant. And the Son of Man, as he entered, eyedThe throng who knelt to the prayer of pride. Then he turned to the suppliant shabby and hoarAnd sat in the Paupers Bench by the door. O come, all ye faithful, the pastor said,And Christ and Poverty bowed the head. THE BALLAD OF GRIZZLY GULCH The rocks are rough, the trail Is tough, The forest lies before.As madly, madly to the hunt Rides good King TheodoreWith woodsmen, plainsmen, journalists And kodaks thirty-four. The bob-cats howl, the panthers growl, He sure is after us! As by his side lopes Bill, the Guide, A wicked-looking cussâ

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