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A Merciful Governor
Standing within the triple wall of Hell,And flattening his nose against a grateBehind whose brazen bars he'd had to dwellA thousand million ages to..
© Ambrose Bierce
A 'Mass' Meeting
It was a solemn rite as e’erWas seen by mortal man.The celebrants, the people there,Were all Republican. There Estee bent his grizzled head,And..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Man
Pennoyer, Governor of Oregon,Casting to South his eye across the bourneOf his dominion (where the Palmiped,With leathers 'twixt his toes, paddles his..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Long-Felt Want
Dimly apparent, through the gloomOf Market-street's opaque simoom,A queue of people, parti-sexed,Awaiting the command of 'Next!'A sidewalk booth, a..
© Ambrose Bierce
'A Literary Method'
His poems Riley says that he inditesUpon an empty stomach. Heavenly Powers,Feed him throat-full: for what the beggar writesUpon his empty stomach..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Literary Hangman
Beneath his coat of dirt great Neilson lovesTo hide the avenging rope.He handles all he touches without gloves,Excepting soap.
© Ambrose Bierce
A Lifted Finger
What! _you_ whip rascals?-_you_, whose gutter bloodBears, in its dark, dishonorable flood,Enough of prison-birds’ prolific germsTo serve a whole..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Lacking Factor
'You acted unwisely,' I cried, 'as you seeBy the outcome.' He calmly eyed me:'When choosing the course of my action,' said he,'I had not the outcome..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Jack-At-All-Views
So, Estee, you are still alive! I thoughtThat you had died and were a blessed ghostI know at least your coffin once was boughtWith Railroad money;..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Hymn Of The Many
God’s people sorely were oppressed,I heard their lamentations long;I hear their singing, clear and strong,I see their banners in the West! The..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Hasty Inference
The Devil one day, coming up from the Pit,All grimy with perspiration,Applied to St. Peter and begged he'd admitHim a moment for consultation.The..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Guest
Death, are you well? I trust you have no coughThat's painful or in any way annoyingNo kidney trouble that may carry you off,Or heart disease to keep..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Growler
Judge Shafter, you're an aged man, I know,And learned too, I doubt not, in the law;And a head white with many a winter's snow(I wish, however that..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Fool
Says Anderson, Theosophist:'Among the many that existIn modern halls,Some lived in ancient Egypt's climeAnd in their childhood saw the primeOf..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Fish Commissioner
Great Joseph D. Redding-illustrious name!Considered a fish-horn the trumpet of Fame.That goddess was angry, and what do you think?Her trumpet she..
© Ambrose Bierce
A False Prophecy
Dom Pedro, Emperor of far Brazil(Whence coffee comes and the three-cornered nut),They say that you're imperially ill,And threatened with paralysis...
© Ambrose Bierce
A Fair Division
Another Irish landlord gone to grass,Slain by the bullets of the tenant class!Pray, good agrarians, what wrong requiresSuch foul redress? Between you..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Dilemma
Filled with a zeal to serve my fellow men,For years I criticised their prose and verges:Pointed out all their blunders of the pen,Their shallowness..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Demand
You promised to paint me a picture,Dear Mat,And I was to pay you in rhyme.Although I am loth to inflict yourMost easy of consciences, I'mOf opinion..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Demagogue
Yawp, yawp, yawp!Under the moon and sun.It's aye the rabble,And I to gabble,And hey! for the tale that is never done.'Chant, chant, chant!To woo the..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Demagogue
Yawp, yawp, yawp!Under the moon and sun.It's aye the rabble,And I to gabble,And hey! for the tale that is never done.'Chant, chant, chant!To woo the..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Dampened Ardor
The Chinatown at BakersfieldWas blazing bright and high;The flames to water would not yield,Though torrents drenched the skyAnd drowned the ground..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Culinary Candidate
A cook adorned with paper cap,Or waiter with a tray,May be a worthy kind of chapIn his way,But when we want one for Recorder,Then, Mr. Walton, take..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Crocodile
Nay, Peter Robertson, 'tis not for youTo blubber o'er Max Taubles for he's dead.By Heaven! my hearty, if you only knewHow better is a grave-worm in..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Critic
That from _you_, neighbor! to whose vacant lotEach rhyming literary knacker scourgesHis cart-compelling Pegasus to trot,As folly, fame or famine..
© Ambrose Bierce