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").
Accepted
Charles Shortridge once to St. Peter came.'Down!' cried the saint with his face aflame;''Tis writ that every hardy liarShall dwell forever and ever..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Year's Casualties
Slain as they lay by the secret, slow,Pitiless hand of an unseen foe,Two score thousand old soldiers have crossedThe river to join the loved and..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Wreath Of Immortelles
Judge Sawyer, whom in vain the people triedTo push from power, here is laid aside.Death only from the bench could ever startThe sluggish load of his..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Wreath Of Immortelles
LORING PICKERING_(After Pope)_Here rests a writer, great but not immense,Born destitute of feeling and of sense.No power he but o'er his brain..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Word To The Unwise
Charles Main, of Main & Winchester, attendWith friendly ear the chit-chat of a friendWho knows you not, yet knows that you and heTravel two roads..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Whipper-In
Dudley, great placeman, man of mark and note,Worthy of honor from a feeble penBlunted in service of all true, good men,You serve the Lord-in courses..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Wet Season
The rain is fierce, it flogs the earth,And man's in danger.O that my mother at my birthHad borne a stranger!The flooded ground is all around.The..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Welcome
Because you call yourself Knights Templar, andThere's neither Knight nor Temple in the land,Because you thus by vain pretense degradeTo paltry..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Warning
Cried Age to Youth: 'Abate your speed!The distance hither's brief indeed.'But Youth pressed on without delayThe shout had reached but half the way
© Ambrose Bierce
A Voluptuary
Who's this that lispeth in the thickening throngWhich crowds to claim distinction in my song?Fresh from 'the palms and temples of the South,'The..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Vision Of Resurrection
I had a dream. The habitable earthIts continents and islands, all were bareOf cities and of forests. Naught remainedOf its old aspect, and I only..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Vision Of Doom
I stood upon a hill. The setting sunWas crimson with a curse and a portent,And scarce his angry ray lit up the landThat lay below, whose lurid gloom..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Vision Of Climate
I dreamed that I was poor and sick and sad,Broken in hope and weary of my life;My ventures all miscarrying-naught hadFor all my labor in the heat and..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Study In Gray
I step from the door with a shiver(This fog is uncommonly cold)And ask myself: What did I give her?The maiden a trifle gone-old,With the head of gray..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Spade
Precursor of our woes, historic spade,What dismal records burn upon thy blade!On thee I see the maculating stainsOf passengers' commingled blood and..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Song In Praise
Hail, blessed Blunder! golden idol, hail!Clay-footed deity of all who fail.Celestial image, let thy glory shine,Thy feet concealing, but a lamp to..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Society Leader
'The Social World’! O what a world it isWhere full-grown men cut capers in the German,Cotillion, waltz, or what you will, and whizzAnd spin and hop..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Social Call
Well, well, old Father Christmas, is it you,With your thick neck and thin pretense of virtue?Less redness in the nose-nay, even some blueWould not, I..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Soaring Toad
So, Governor, you would not serve againAlthough we’d all agree to pay you double.You find it all is vanity and painOne clump of clover in a field of..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Silurian Holiday
'Tis Master Fitch, the editor;He takes an holiday.Now wherefore, venerable sir,So resolutely gay?He lifts his head, he laughs aloud,Odzounds! 'tis..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Serenade
'Sas agapo sas agapo,'He sang beneath her lattice.''Sas agapo'?' she murmured-'O,I wonder, now, what _that_ is!'Was she less fair that she did bearSo..
© Ambrose Bierce
A 'scion Of Nobility'
Come, sisters, weep!-our Baron dear,Alas! has run away.If always we had kept him hereHe had not gone astray.Painter and grainer it were vainTo say he..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Retort
As vicious women think all men are knaves,And shrew-bound gentlemen discourse of slaves;As reeling drunkards judge the world unsteadyAnd idlers swear..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Reply To A Letter
O nonsense, parson-tell me not they thriveAnd jubilate who follow your dictation.The good are the unhappiest lot aliveI know they are from careful..
© Ambrose Bierce
A Rendezvous
Nightly I put up this humble petition:'Forgive me, O Father of Glories,My sins of commission, my sins of omission,My sins of the Mission Dolores.'
© Ambrose Bierce