THE VAGABOND AND HIS DOG
Robert X. Leeds
.
It was another Christmas day
And God looked out to see
What scriptured promise came to pass,
What promise would not be.
.
And turning aside, HE turned his eyes
To those who'd dwell inside,
To those who'd warm by Heaven's hearth
And those who'd be denied.
.
And HE saw a man at St. Peter's gate,
A mongrel dog at his feet,
And a line that reached to the dark of night
As far as the eye could see.
.
And St. Peter looked at the disheveled two
And challenged the wretch to say,
What deeds he'd done, what praise he'd won
To walk in Heaven's way.
.
And the vagrant stood in his shabby robe
And not one word he spoke,
As though he heard not a single word
This man in the tattered cloak.
.
"What deeds have you done to think you've won
The grace of Heaven's line?
What honors earned? What evils spurned?
Pray help me be inclined."
.
But the wretched soul and his shepherd hound
Stayed on without a sound
As though no deed could come to mind,
As though no reason found.
.
"Can you not find one deed so fine,
To merit entrance here?
Can none attest some honored quest,
A challenge still unclear?"
.
And still he stood and but held the leash
That stayed the mongrel hound.
Until he knelt to feel the ground
And kiss the furry crown.
.
As love was cast in skin and bone,
He held the dog around,
And Heaven watched and Heaven judged
This vagabond and his hound.
.
"What seeds were sowed that a flower'd grow
When you'd depart the scene?
A single tree? One slave made free?
One clean and shining sea?
.
Was not one life made free of strife
Along the path you strolled?
Was not one child encouraged to smile?
No good that can be told?"
.
And all looked on at the vagabond
Who held the unkempt hound.
But not one voice to sway the choice,
No plaintiff voice was found.
.
And when at last, his patience past,
St. Peter bid unkind
And motioned on to the dark beyond,
"No reason you can find?"
.
"Not one but simple virtue be
That all of us may see?
Not one redeeming act of faith
Did bring you here to me?
.
In all your time can you not find
One voice for yours to plea?
In all your time can you not find
One voice to vouch for thee?"
.
And now at last his time though past,
The vagabond turned to speak;
And his eyes were filled with tears that spilled
And coursed the craggy cheeks.
.
And from his heart the speech did start
To argue not his sake,
But to plead the cause of the mongrel dog,
That lay in Heaven's wake.
.
"Perhaps it ain't for me to see
The paradise within.
I was a simple soul on earth
This hound my only kin.
.
But if the children's smiles count,
His cup's filled to the brim.
Oh, I can vouch for this hound, your grace.
I can vouch for him.
.
You should'a seen them laugh and run
When he was all their game.
You should'a seen the love he gave
And never once complain.
.
And when the tide of time arose
And naught was there to eat,
He shared the taste of an empty plate
And stayed at these failing feet.
.
It ain't for me," he whispered soft,
"It ain't for me I ask.
But don't deprive this poor old hound
For what his master lacks.
.
If caring and sharing and loyalty
Are virtues of your size,
Consider one who lacks of none,
Let Heaven be his prize.
.
It matters not what comes of me,
Or what may come about.
But it just ain't fair. It wouldn't be fair
To keep my poor hound out.
.
No friend has ever been so true.
No man has walked a line,
Who never strayed, but not this dog,
This hound that I call mine."
.
His fingers stroked the shaggy coat
And the dog licked back the hand;
And as much was said in the silence there,
Than since God's quest began.
.
And then abrupt, the hound looked up
And labored with its head
To lick this face of human grace,
This man of tattered thread.
.
And suddenly a calm would be
That tethered every sound.
And a warm breeze blew that embraced the two,
This vagabond and his hound.
.
And St. Peter turned to the mist beyond
And paused with uplifted head.
To heed the voice of Almighty God
And to do as HE has said.
.
"I've set the task and I have asked
For virtues held and shared.
To dwell in a world of every kind
And for every kind have cared.
.
And now I've seen dimensions dreamed
That seldom I've seen before,
A simple man and his faithful hound,
Denied at my own door?"
.
With pen in hand, St. Peter began
To enter on his list,
The names of those whom God had chose
To dwell in Heaven's bliss.
.
And one belonged to a vagabond
And the other he called his kin;
The man who vouched for an old hound dog
And the hound dog who vouched for him
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