The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | ||
A FALSE ALARM
When Gertrude Atherton pronounced the ladiesOf fair Manhattan hideous as Hades—
In eyes no splendor, and in cheeks no roses,
And, O ye godlings! rudimentary noses—
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Straight to their dressing-rooms ran dames and lasses,
Who, still dissenting from her curst appraisal,
Grew more pugnacious, but not less pugnasal.
Ladies, be calm: there's nothing to distress you—
The Sacred Englishman will rise and bless you.
No noses—none to speak of—is alarming,
But that you can't speak through them—that is charming!
The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | ||