Summer Heat

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Nay, why discuss this summer heat,
  Of which vain people tell?
  Oh, sinner, rather were it meet
  To fix thy thoughts on hell!

  The punishment ordained for you
  In that infernal spot
  Is het by Satan's impish crew
  And kept forever hot.

  Sumatra might be reckoned nice,
  And Tophet passing cool,
  And Sodom were a cake of ice
  Beside that sulphur pool.

  An awful stench and dismal wail
  Come from the broiling souls,
  Whilst Satan with his fireproof tail
  Stirs up the brimstone coals.

  Oh, sinner, on this end 'tis meet
  That thou shouldst ponder well,
  For what, oh, what, is worldly heat
  Unto the heat of hell?

© Eugene Field