An Atheist in Heaven
Upon my death, should my beliefs attest
To be so wrong,
And should my doubting self yet house a soul;
Which lurks obscure until eternal rest
Proves not so long,
Then rises up when summoned to extol,
And give account of faith, and weigh agenst
A common mark;
Then let it hold no shame and hold no fear.
And should my final form be then dispensed
Unto the dark,
Still my whole life was loving and sincere.
Rhyming Couplets 