human
Can you write me a poem about mcloughlin bros. and murder in the style of Jacques Futrelle?
assistant
Sure, here's a poem about mcloughlin bros. and murder in the style of Jacques Futrelle:
  Watt's Songs
McLOUGHLIN BROS., Publishers,
O 'tis a lovely thing for youth
To walk betimes in wisdom's way;
To fear a lie, to speak the truth,
That we may trust to all they say!
But liars we can never trust,
Though they should speak the thing that's true;
And he that does one fault at first,
And lies to hide it, makes it two.
Have we not known, nor heard nor read
How God abhors deceit and wrong?
How Ananias was struck dead,
Caught with a lie upon his tongue?
So did his wife Sapphira die,
When she came in, and grew so bold
As to confirm that wicked lie,
Which just before her husband told.
The Lord delights in them that speak
The words of truth; but every liar
Must have his portion in the lake
That burns with brimstone and with fire.
Then let me always watch my lips,
Lest I be struck to death and hell,
Since God a book of reckoning keeps
For every lie that children tell.
Whatever brawls disturb the street,
There should be peace at home;
Where sisters dwell and brothers meet
Quarrels should never come.
Birds in their little nests agree;
And 'tis a shameful sight,
When children of one family
Fall out, and chide, and fight.
Hard names at first, and threat'ning words
That are but noisy breath,
May grow to clubs and naked swords,
To murder and to death.
The devil tempts one mother's son
To rage against another:
So wicked Cain was hurried on,
Till he had kill'd his brother.
The wise will let their anger cool,
At least before 'tis night;
But in the bosom of a fool
It burns till morning light.
Pardon, O Lord, our childish rage,
Our little brawls remove,
That, as we grow to riper age,
Our hearts may all be love!
How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower!
How skilfully she builds her cell!
How neat she spreads the wax!
And labors hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes.
In works of labor or of skill
I would be busy too:
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.
In books, or work, or healthful play
Let my first years be past,
That I may give for every day
Some good account at last.
There is a God that reigns above,
Lord of the heavens, and earth, and seas:
I fear his wrath, I ask his love,
And with my lips I sing his praise.
There is a law which he has writ,
To teach us all what we must do:
My soul, to his commands submit,
For they are holy, just, and true.
There is a Gospel of rich grace,
Whence sinners all their comforts draw:
Lord, I repent, and seek thy face,
For I have often broke thy law.
There is an hour when I must die,
Nor do I know how soon 'twill come:
A thousand children, young as I,
Are call'd by death to hear their doom.
Let me improve the hours I have,
Before the day of grace is fled:
There's no repentance in the grave,
No pardon offer'd to the dead.
Just as a tree cut down, that fell
To north or southward, there it lies,
So man departs to heaven or hell,
Fix'd in the state wherein he dies.
How fine has the day been! how bright was the sun!
How lovely and joyful the course that he run;
Though he rose in a mist when his race he begun,
And there follow'd some droppings of rain:
But now the fair traveler's come to the west,
His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best;
He paints the skies gay as he sinks to his rest,
And foretells a bright rising again.
Just such is the Christian. His course he begins
Like the sun in a mist, while he mourns for his sins,
And melts into tears; then he breaks out and shines,
And travels his heavenly way:
But when he comes nearer to finish his race
Like a fine setting sun, he looks richer in grace;
And gives a sure hope, at the end of his days
Of rising in brighter array.
Let dogs delight to bark and bite,
For God hath made them so;
Let bears and lions growl and fight,
For 'tis their nature, too.
But, children, you should never let
Such angry passions rise:
Your little hands were never made
To tear each other's eyes.
Let love through all your actions run
And all your words be mild;
Live like the blessed Virgin's Son,
That sweet and lovely child.
His soul was gentle as a lamb;
And as his stature grew,
He grew in favor both with man,
And God his Father, too.
Now, Lord of all, he reigns above;
And from his heavenly throne
He sees what children dwell in love,
And makes them for his own.
Be you to others kind and true,
As you'd have others be to you;
And neither do nor say to men
Whate'er you would not take again.
Love God with all your soul and strength
With all your heart and mind;
And love your neighbour as yourself:
Be faithful, just, and kind.
Deal with another as you'd have
Another deal with you:
What you're unwilling to receive
Be sure you never do.
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