There is a gate, we know full well, <br />That stands 'twixt Heaven, and Earth, and Hell, <br />Where many for a passage venture, <br />Yet very few are fond to enter: <br />Although 'tis open night and day, <br />They for that reason shun this way: <br />Both dukes and lords abhor its wood, <br />They can't come near it for their blood. <br />What other way they take to go, <br />Another time I'll let you know. <br />Yet commoners with greatest ease <br />Can find an entrance when they please. <br />The poorest hither march in state <br />(Or they can never pass the gate) <br />Like Roman generals triumphant, <br />And then they take a turn and jump on't, <br />If gravest parsons here advance, <br />They cannot pass before they dance; <br />There's not a soul that does resort here, <br />But strips himself to pay the porter.<br /><br />Jonathan Swift<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-the-gallows/
