Classic Poem

Pilâtre fell two thousand feet;
His limbs, when stripp'd, were black and blue.
It has been said, " He was not sweet; " —
But Nicholl heard him cry — " Mon Dieu . "

The air, as such, through which he fell,
On Death's account, a cypher threw;
The mouth, if shut, and guarded well,
Could leave him breath to say — Mon Dieu.

'Twas not the air that broke his head,
Though faster than he wish'd it flew;
And, falling on a feather-bed,
He might have sung the words — Mon Dieu.

A case in point , of neutral air,
From cats the same reporter knew;
From equal height they fell — with care,
And jump'd, as well as cried — Mon dieu.

From Dover Cliff to Dover Sand ,
That Glo'ster fell — no problem grew:
The Duke, with judgment, kiss'd the land,
And said, in time, the words — Mon Dieu.

When thrown from the Tarpeian rock,
The culprit, had he known his cue,
Prepar'd below to meet the shock,
In Latin would have said — Mon Dieu.

The Lover's Leap , no more the test
Of hopeless passion's flame I view;
'Tis all a fudge, — the leap's a jest,
And a new love is the — Mon Dieu!

The Bard that, plung'd in endless night,
Could have reform'd the wizard crew;
Like parachutes had wing'd his flight,
If chang'd his curses to — Mon Dieu!

But still 'twould make the vision clearer,
When facts are wonderful, though true —
If a long bow were lent the hearer ,
Lest he should stare, and cry — Mon Dieu!