Heaven runs a pretty good hotel.
All is well arranged for happiness,
Placed just so, to heighten tenderness,
Placed to spirits heal and sorrows quell.
Yet some against such hostelry rebel,
So pitched on pain they see it as success,
Invested in the cause of their distress,
Xerophytes, who would in deserts dwell.
The choice is there before you every day:
Enduring love or unenduring pleasure,
Exiting the garden of your grace.
Nor is there any reason not to stay,
There being at this inn the things you treasure,
Here, where Heaven runs a pretty good place.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.