 | 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 | |