 | The collected works of Ambrose Bierce |  |
255
TO EITHER
Back farther than
I know, in San
Francisco dwelt a wealthy man.
So rich was he
That none could be
Wise, good and great in like degree.
I know, in San
Francisco dwelt a wealthy man.
So rich was he
That none could be
Wise, good and great in like degree.
'Tis true he wrought,
In deed or thought,
But few of all the things he ought;
But men said: “Who
Would wish him to?
Great souls are born to be, not do!”
In deed or thought,
But few of all the things he ought;
But men said: “Who
Would wish him to?
Great souls are born to be, not do!”
One thing, indeed,
He did, we read,
Which was becoming, all agreed:
Grown provident,
Ere life was spent
He built a mighty monument.
He did, we read,
Which was becoming, all agreed:
Grown provident,
Ere life was spent
He built a mighty monument.
For longer than
I know, in San
Francisco lived a beggar man;
And when in bed
They found him dead—
“Just like the scamp!” the people said.
I know, in San
Francisco lived a beggar man;
And when in bed
They found him dead—
“Just like the scamp!” the people said.
256
He died, they say,
On the same day
His wealthy neighbor passed away.
But matters it
When beggars quit
Their beats? I answer: Not a bit.
On the same day
His wealthy neighbor passed away.
But matters it
When beggars quit
Their beats? I answer: Not a bit.
They got a spade
And pick and made
A hole, and there the chap was laid.
“He asked for bread,”
'Twas neatly said:
“He'll get not even a stone instead.”
And pick and made
A hole, and there the chap was laid.
“He asked for bread,”
'Twas neatly said:
“He'll get not even a stone instead.”
The years rolled round:
His humble mound
Sank to the level of the ground;
And men forgot
That the bare spot
Was (and was like) the beggar's lot.
His humble mound
Sank to the level of the ground;
And men forgot
That the bare spot
Was (and was like) the beggar's lot.
Forgotten, too,
Was t'other, who
Had reared the monument to woo
Inconstant Fame,
Though still his name
Shouted in granite just the same.
Was t'other, who
Had reared the monument to woo
Inconstant Fame,
Though still his name
Shouted in granite just the same.
257
That name, I swear,
They both did bear
The beggar and the millionaire.
That lofty tomb,
Then, honored—whom?
For argument here's ample room.
They both did bear
The beggar and the millionaire.
That lofty tomb,
Then, honored—whom?
For argument here's ample room.
| The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | |