a poem

Some would gather money

Along the path of life,

Some would gather roses,

And rest from worldly strife.

But I would gather children

From among the thorns of sin,

I would seek an ebony curl,

And a freckled, toothy grin.

For money cannot enter

In that land of endless day,

And roses that are gathered

Soon will wilt along the way.

But oh, the laughing children,

As I cross the sunset sea,

And the gates swing wide to heaven

I can take them in with me!

author unknown