Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
The Veteran
John Jackson, once a soldier bold,Hath still a martial feeling;So, when he sees a foe, behold!He charges him-with stealing.He cares not how much..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Van Nessiad
From end to end, thine avenue, Van Ness,Rang with the cries of battle and distress!Brave lungs were thundering with dreadful soundAnd perspiration..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Valley Of The Shadow Of Theft
In fair Yosemite, that den of thievesWherein the minions of the moon divideThe travelers' purses, lo! the Devil grieves,His larger share as leader..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Valley Of Dry Bones
With crow bones all the land is white,From the gates of morn to the gates of night.Picked clean, they lie on the cumbered ground,And the politician's..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Unpardonable Sin
I reckon that ye never knew,That dandy slugger, Tom Carew,He had a touch as light an' freeAs that of any honey-bee;But where it lit there wasn't..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Unfallen Brave
Not all in sorrow and in tears,To pay of gratitude's arrearsThe yearly sumNot prompted, wholly by the prideOf those for whom their friends have..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Transmigrations Of A Soul
What! Pixley, must I hear you call the rollOf all the vices that infest your soul?Was’t not enough that lately you did bawlYour money-worship in the..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Town Of Dae
Swains and maidens, young and old,You to me this tale have told.Where the squalid town of DaeIrks the comfortable sea,Spreading webs to gather..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Tables Turned
Over the man the street car ran,And the driver did never grin.'O killer of men, pray tell me whenYour laughter means to begin.'Ten years to a day..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Sunset Gun
Off Santa Cruz the western waveWas crimson as with blood:The sun was sinking to his graveBeneath that angry flood.Sir Walter Turnbull, brave and..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Subdued Editor
Pope-choker Pixley sat in his denA-chewin' upon his quid.He thought it was Leo Thirteen, and thenHe bit it intenser, he did.The amber which overflew..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Statesmen
How blest the land that counts amongHer sons so many good and wise,To execute great feats of tongueWhen troubles rise.Behold them mounting every..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Spirit Of A Sponge
I dreamed one night that Stephen Massett died,And for admission up at Heaven applied.'Who are you?' asked St. Peter. Massett said:'Jeems Pipes, of..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Shafter Shafted
Well, James McMillan Shafter, you're a JudgeAt least you were when last I knew of you;And if the people since have made you budgeI did not notice it...
© Ambrose Bierce
The Setting Sachem
'Twas an Injin chieftain, in feathers all fine,Who stood on the ocean's rim;There were numberless leagues of excellent brineBut there wasn't enough..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Scurril Press
OM JONESMITH _(loquitur)_: I've slept right throughThe night-a rather clever thing to do.How soundly women sleep _(looks at his wife.)They're all..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Saint And The Monk
Saint Peter at the gate of Heaven displayedThe tools and terrors of his awful trade;The key, the frown as pitiless as night,That slays intending..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Royal Jester
Once on a time, so ancient poets sing,There reigned in Godknowswhere a certain king.So great a monarch ne'er before was seen:He was a hero, even to..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Rich Testator
He lay on his bed and solemnly 'signed,'Gasping-perhaps 'twas a jest he meant:'This of a sound and disposing mindIs the last ill-will and..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Retrospective Bird
His caw is a cackle, his eye is dim,And he mopes all day on the lowest limb;Not a word says he, but he snaps his billAnd twitches his palsied head..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Pun
Hail, peerless Pun! thou last and best,Most rare and excellent bequestOf dying idiot to the witHe died of, rat-like, in a pit!Thyself disguised, in..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Psoriad
The King of Scotland, years and years ago,Convened his courtiers in a gallant rowAnd thus addressed them:'Gentle sirs, from youAbundant counsel I..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Politician
'Let Glory's sons manipulateThe tiller of the Ship of State.Be mine the humble, useful toilTo work the tiller of the soil.'
© Ambrose Bierce
The Piute
Unbeautiful is the Piute!Howe'er bedecked with bravery,His person is unsavoryOf soap he's destitute.He multiplies upon the earthIn spite of all..
© Ambrose Bierce
The Perverted Village After Goldsmith
Sweet Auburn! liveliest village of the plain,Where Health and Slander welcome every train,Whence smiling innocence, its tribute paid,Retires in..
© Ambrose Bierce