Tim and Feeney

Down there in the Elysian Fields,
Whose crops produce tremendous yields
And pheasants fill their bulging chests,
Displaying multi-colored vests,

There Tim can shoot and Feeney fetch:
The scene’s like one Tim’s poems etch:
The falling duck––who knows how many?––
And Feeney plashing in the fenny,

Forever in that dayish night,
If Tim’s beliefs are proven right.