 | The collected works of Ambrose Bierce |  |
THE NIGHT OF THE ELECTION
“O venerable patriot, I pray
Stand not here coatless; at the break of day
We'll know the grand results—and even now
The eastern sky is faintly touched with gray.
Stand not here coatless; at the break of day
We'll know the grand results—and even now
The eastern sky is faintly touched with gray.
“It ill befits thine age's hoary crown—
This rude environment of rogue and clown,
Who, as the lying bulletins appear,
With drunken cries incarnadine the town.
This rude environment of rogue and clown,
Who, as the lying bulletins appear,
With drunken cries incarnadine the town.
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“But if with noble zeal you stay to note
The outcome of your patriotic vote
For Blaine, or Cleveland, and your native land,
Take—and God bless you!—take my overcoat.”
The outcome of your patriotic vote
For Blaine, or Cleveland, and your native land,
Take—and God bless you!—take my overcoat.”
“Done, pard—it's mighty white of you. And now
I guess the country'll keep the trail somehow.
I ain't allowed to vote, the Warden said,
But whacked my coat up on old Stanislow.”
I guess the country'll keep the trail somehow.
I ain't allowed to vote, the Warden said,
But whacked my coat up on old Stanislow.”
| The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | |