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The Poetry Of Ambrose Bierce - Volume 3
The Poetry Of Ambrose Bierce - Volume 3
The Poetry Of Ambrose Bierce - Volume 3
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The Poetry Of Ambrose Bierce - Volume 3

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Ambrose Gwinnett Bierce had a diverse literary, military and journalistic career, during which his sardonic view of human nature ensured he was both frequently critical and frequently criticised. As a writer, his work included short stories, fables, editorials and his journalism, which was often controversial owing to his vehemence and acerbic style. He was born on June 24th 1842 at Horse Cave Creek in Meigs Country, Ohio. His parents were poor and very religious but instilled in the young Bierce an abiding love of language and literature. A year at the Kentucky Military Institute prepared him for the Civil War and a source of much of his acclaimed writing. Eventually he moved west to San Francisco where he married and began his literary career in earnest. A few years in England saw his work begin to publish in greater quantities. By 1891 although his marriage had fallen apart he had published ‘An Occurrence at Owl Creek’ his classic short story. To this he quickly added volumes of poetry and further volumes of stories and essays as well as a thriving career with the Hearst Organisation. In all his reputation was set as one of America’s foremost literary creators. At the age of 71, in 1913 Bierce departed from Washington, D.C., for a tour of the battlefields upon which he had fought during the civil war. He passed through Louisiana and Texas by December and was crossed into Mexico which was in the throes of revolution. He joined Pancho Villa’s army as an observer. It was in Chihuahua where he wrote his last known communication dated 26th December 1913, closing with the words “as to me, I leave here tomorrow for an unknown destination” and then vanished without trace in what would become one of the most famous unexplained disappearances in American history.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateFeb 17, 2015
ISBN9781785431449
The Poetry Of Ambrose Bierce - Volume 3
Author

Ambrose Bierce

Ambrose Bierce was an American writer, critic and war veteran. Bierce fought for the Union Army during the American Civil War, eventually rising to the rank of brevet major before resigning from the Army following an 1866 expedition across the Great Plains. Bierce’s harrowing experiences during the Civil War, particularly those at the Battle of Shiloh, shaped a writing career that included editorials, novels, short stories and poetry. Among his most famous works are “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge,” “The Boarded Window,” “Chickamauga,” and What I Saw of Shiloh. While on a tour of Civil-War battlefields in 1913, Bierce is believed to have joined Pancho Villa’s army before disappearing in the chaos of the Mexican Revolution.

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    The Poetry Of Ambrose Bierce - Volume 3 - Ambrose Bierce

    The Poetry of Ambrose Bierce - Volume 3

    Ambrose Gwinnett Bierce had a diverse literary, military and journalistic career, during which his sardonic view of human nature ensured he was both frequently critical and frequently criticised. As a writer, his work included short stories, fables, editorials and his journalism, which was often controversial owing to his vehemence and acerbic style.

    He was born on June 24th 1842 at Horse Cave Creek in Meigs Country, Ohio. His parents were poor and very religious but instilled in the young Bierce an abiding love of language and literature.

    A year at the Kentucky Military Institute prepared him for the Civil War and a source of much of his acclaimed writing.  Eventually he moved west to San Francisco where he married and began his literary career in earnest. A few years in England saw his work begin to publish in greater quantities

    By 1891 although his marriage had fallen apart he had published ‘An Occurrence at Owl Creek’ his classic short story. To this he quickly added volumes of poetry and further volumes of stories and essays as well as a thriving career with the Hearst Organisation. In all his reputation was set as one of America’s foremost literary creators.

    At the age of 71, in 1913 Bierce departed from Washington, D.C., for a tour of the battlefields upon which he had fought during the civil war. He passed through Louisiana and Texas by December and was crossed into Mexico which was in the throes of revolution. He joined Pancho Villa’s army as an observer.  It was in Chihuahua where he wrote his last known communication dated 26th December 1913, closing with the words as to me, I leave here tomorrow for an unknown destination and then vanished without trace in what would become one of the most famous unexplained disappearances in American history.

    Index of Contents

    The Man Born Blind

    The Militiaman

    The National Guardsman

    The Naval Constructor

    The New Decalogue

    The New Enoch

    The New 'Ulalume'

    The Night Of Election

    The Oakland Dog

    The Oleomargarine Man

    The Opposing Sex

    The Passing Of 'Boss' Shepherd

    The Passing Show

    The Perverted Village After Goldsmith

    The Piute

    The Politician

    The Psoriad

    The Pun

    The Retrospective Bird

    The Rich Testator

    The Royal Jester

    The Saint And The Monk

    The Setting Sachem

    The Shafter Shafted

    The Spirit Of A Sponge

    The Statesmen

    The Subdued Editor

    The Sunset Gun

    The Tables Turned

    The Town Of Dae

    The Transmigrations Of A Soul

    The Unfallen Brave

    The Unpardonable Sin

    The Valley Of Dry Bones

    The Valley Of The Shadow Of Theft

    The Van Nessiad

    The Veteran

    The 'Viduate Dame'

    The Weather Wight

    The Wise And Good

    The Woful Tale Of Mr. Peters

    The Woman And The Devil

    The Yearly Lie

    Thersites

    Three Kinds Of A Rogue

    Tidings Of Good

    Tinker Dick

    To A Censor

    To A Critic Of Tennyson

    To A Dejected Poet

    To A Professional Eulogist

    To A Stray Dog

    To A Summer Poet

    To A Word-Warrior

    To An Aspirant

    To An Insolent Attorney

    To 'Colonel' Dan. Burns

    To E.S. Salomon

    To Either

    To Her

    To Maude

    To My Laundress

    To My Liars

    To Nanine

    To One Across The Way

    To One Detested

    To Oscar Wilde

    To The Bartholdi Statue

    To The Fool-Killer

    To The Happy Hunting Grounds

    To-Day

    Twin Unworthies

    Two Methods

    Two Rogues

    Two Shows

    Two Statesmen

    Unarmed

    Uncoloneled

    Unexpounded

    Vanished At Cock-Crow

    Vice Versa

    Visions Of Sin

    Weather

    With a Book

    With Mine Own Petard

    Woman In Politics

    Y'e Foe To Cathaye

    Ye Idyll Of Ye Hippopopotamus

    Quintessence.

    Yorick

    Aspirants Three

    Metempsychosis

    'Peaceable Expulsion'

    Slander

    Slickens

    Thanksgiving

    The Birth Of The Rail

    The Brothers

    The Mummery

    The Scurril Press

    Ambrose Bierce - A Short Biography

    The Man Born Blind

    A man born blind received his sight

    By a painful operation;

    And these are things he saw in the light

    Of an infant observation.

    He saw a merchant, good and wise.

    And greatly, too, respected,

    Who looked, to those imperfect eyes,

    Like a swindler undetected.

    He saw a patriot address

    A noisy public meeting.

    And said: 'Why, that's a calf. I guess.

    That for the teat is bleating.'

    A doctor stood beside a bed

    And shook his summit sadly.

    'O see that foul assassin!' said

    The man who saw so badly.

    He saw a lawyer pleading for

    A thief whom they'd been jailing,

    And said: 'That's an accomplice, or

    My sight again is failing.'

    Upon the Bench a Justice sat,

    With nothing to restrain him;

    ''Tis strange,' said the observer, 'that

    They ventured to unchain him.'

    With theologic works supplied,

    He saw a solemn preacher;

    'A burglar with his kit,' he cried,

    'To rob a fellow creature.'

    A bluff old farmer next he saw

    Sell produce in a village,

    And said: 'What, what! is there no law

    To punish men for pillage?'

    A dame, tall, fair and stately, passed,

    Who many charms united;

    He thanked his stars his lot was cast

    Where sepulchers were whited.

    He saw a soldier stiff and stern,

    'Full of strange oaths' and toddy;

    But was unable to discern

    A wound upon his body.

    Ten square leagues of rolling ground

    To one great man belonging,

    Looked like one little grassy mound

    With worms beneath it thronging.

    A palace's well-carven stones,

    Where Dives dwelt contented,

    Seemed built throughout of human bones

    With human blood cemented.

    He watched the yellow shining thread

    A silk-worm was a-spinning;

    'That creature's coining gold.' he said,

    'To pay some girl for sinning.'

    His eyes were so untrained and dim

    All politics, religions,

    Arts, sciences, appeared to him

    But modes of plucking pigeons.

    And so he drew his final breath,

    And thought he saw with sorrow

    Some persons weeping for his death

    Who'd be all smiles to-morrow.

    The Militiaman

    'O warrior with the burnished arms

    With bullion cord and tassel

    Pray tell me of the lurid charms

    Of service and the fierce alarms:

    The storming of the castle,

    The charge across the smoking field,

    The rifles' busy rattle

    What thoughts inspire the men who wield

    The blade - their gallant souls how steeled

    And fortified in battle.'

    'Nay, man of peace, seek not to know

    War's baleful fascination

    The soldier's hunger for the foe,

    His dread of safety, joy to go

    To court annihilation.

    Though calling bugles blow not now,

    Nor drums begin to beat yet,

    One fear unmans me, I'll allow,

    And poisons all my pleasure: How

    If I should get my feet wet!'

    The National Guardsman

    I'm a gorgeous golden hero

    And my trade is taking life.

    Hear the twittle-twittle-tweero

    Of my sibillating fife

    And the rub-a-dub-a-dum

    Of my big bass drum!

    I'm an escort strong and bold,

    The Grand Army to protect.

    My countenance is cold

    And my attitude erect.

    I'm a Californian Guard

    And my banner flies aloft,

    But the stones are O, so hard!

    And my feet are O, so soft!

    The Naval Constructor

    He looked upon the ships as they

    All idly lay at anchor,

    Their sides with gorgeous workmen gay

    The riveter and planker

    Republicans and Democrats,

    Statesmen and politicians.

    He saw the swarm of prudent rats

    Swimming for land positions.

    He marked each 'belted cruiser' fine,

    Her poddy life-belts floating

    In tether where the hungry brine

    Impinged upon her coating.

    He noted with a proud regard,

    As any of his class would,

    The poplar mast and poplar yard

    Above the hull of bass-wood.

    He saw the Eastlake frigate tall,

    With quaintly carven gable,

    Hip-roof and dormer-window-all

    With ivy formidable.

    In short, he saw our country's hope

    In best of all conditions

    Equipped, to the last spar and rope,

    By working politicians.

    He boarded then the noblest ship

    And from the harbor glided.

    'Adieu, adieu!' fell from his lip.

    Verdict: 'He suicided.'

    The New Decalogue

    Have but one God: thy knees were sore

    If bent in prayer to three or four.

    Adore no images save those

    The coinage of thy country shows.

    Take not the Name in vain. Direct

    Thy swearing unto some effect.

    Thy hand from Sunday work be held

    Work not at all unless compelled.

    Honor thy parents, and perchance

    Their wills thy fortunes may advance.

    Kill not - death liberates thy foe

    From persecution's constant woe.

    Kiss not thy neighbor's wife. Of course

    There's no objection to divorce.

    To steal were folly, for 'tis plain

    In cheating there is greater pain.

    Bear not false witness. Shake your head

    And say that you have 'heard it said.'

    Who stays to covet ne'er will catch

    An opportunity to snatch.

    The New Enoch

    Enoch Arden was an able

    Seaman; hear of his mishap

    Not in wild mendacious fable,

    As 't was told by t' other chap;

    For I hold it is a youthful

    Indiscretion to tell lies,

    And the writer that is truthful

    Has the reader that is wise.

    Enoch Arden, able seaman,

    On an isle was cast away,

    And before he was a freeman

    Time had touched him up with gray.

    Long he searched the fair horizon,

    Seated on a mountain top;

    Vessel ne'er he set his eyes on

    That would undertake to stop.

    Seeing that his sight was growing

    Dim and dimmer, day by day,

    Enoch said he must be going.

    So he rose and went away

    Went away and so continued

    Till he lost his lonely isle:

    Mr. Arden was so sinewed

    He could row for many a mile.

    Compass he had not, nor sextant,

    To direct him o'er the sea:

    Ere 't was known that he was extant,

    At his widow's home was he.

    When he saw the hills and hollows

    And the streets he could but know,

    He gave utterance as follows

    To the sentiments below:

    'Blast my tarry toplights! (shiver,

    Too, my timbers!) but, I say,

    W'at a larruk to diskiver,

    I have lost me blessid way!

    'W'at, alas, would be my bloomin'

    Fate if Philip now I see,

    Which I lammed? or my old 'oman,

    Which has frequent basted me?'

    Scenes of childhood swam around him

    At the thought of such a lot:

    In a swoon his Annie found him

    And conveyed him to her cot.

    'T was the very house, the garden,

    Where their honeymoon was passed:

    'T was the place where Mrs. Arden

    Would have mourned

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