 | The collected works of Ambrose Bierce |  |
THE GOLDEN AGE
Long ago the world was finer—
Why it failed I do not know:
All the virtues were diviner;
Robber, miser, and maligner
Had not been created. No,
Truth and honor flourished, though,
Long ago.
Why it failed I do not know:
All the virtues were diviner;
Robber, miser, and maligner
Had not been created. No,
Truth and honor flourished, though,
Long ago.
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Sages in procession stalking
Moved majestic to and fro,
And each lowly mortal walking
In their shadow stilled his talking,
Heeding the sonorous flow
Of their wisdom, loud or low,
Long ago.
Moved majestic to and fro,
And each lowly mortal walking
In their shadow stilled his talking,
Heeding the sonorous flow
Of their wisdom, loud or low,
Long ago.
Angel Woman, younger, fairer
Far than she that now we know,
Gave men meeting with a rarer
Grace. No graybeard cried, “Beware her
Tongue and temper!” She was slow
To wrath. I tell you that was so,
Long ago.
Far than she that now we know,
Gave men meeting with a rarer
Grace. No graybeard cried, “Beware her
Tongue and temper!” She was slow
To wrath. I tell you that was so,
Long ago.
Ah, the miracle of morning,
Setting all the world aglow
Like a smile of light adorning
God's own face, held no forewarning
Of the tempest that would blow—
Sign and prophecy of woe,
Long ago.
Setting all the world aglow
Like a smile of light adorning
God's own face, held no forewarning
Of the tempest that would blow—
Sign and prophecy of woe,
Long ago.
Hope from every hilltop beckoned
To the happy throngs below;
And they confidently reckoned
On a hero every second.
Best of all that goodly show,
I was but a laddie—O,
So long ago!
To the happy throngs below;
And they confidently reckoned
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Best of all that goodly show,
I was but a laddie—O,
So long ago!
| The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | |