The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | ||
378
[This grave holds Barnes in all his glory]
This grave holds Barnes in all his glory—Master he of oratOry.
When he died the people, weeping
(For they thought him only sleeping)
Cried: “Although he now is quiet
And his tongue is not a riot,
Soon, the spell that binds him breaking,
He a motion will be making.
Then, alas, he'll rise and speak
In support of it a week.”
The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | ||