 | The collected works of Ambrose Bierce |  |
A FUTURE CONVERSATION
[_]
If the coal strike is not settled satisfactorily I shall lead the wives of the miners in a march on Washington.—
Mother Jones.
“What is this I see, what is this I see
In this year of our Lord 3003?
What ruins are spread in confusion wide
Over hill and plain by Potomac's side?”
In this year of our Lord 3003?
What ruins are spread in confusion wide
Over hill and plain by Potomac's side?”
“These, traveler, these are the leveled stones
Attesting the prowess of Mother Jones.”
“O plowman, I never in history grew
To the high attainments of Smith Carew,
Whose noble book, ‘The Decline and Fall
Of America,’ holds the respect of all.
Of Mother Jones I often have heard,
But thought—pray pardon if I have erred—
That the ancient lady became renowned
By embroidering cats on a velvet ground.”
Attesting the prowess of Mother Jones.”
114
To the high attainments of Smith Carew,
Whose noble book, ‘The Decline and Fall
Of America,’ holds the respect of all.
Of Mother Jones I often have heard,
But thought—pray pardon if I have erred—
That the ancient lady became renowned
By embroidering cats on a velvet ground.”
“Your error is wide, remote, extreme:
Not the needle's shine, but the sabre's gleam
Delighted of old her heroic soul
And made her unloved of the Lords of Coal.
In that distant day when the miner ‘rose,’
And to spite his countenance severed his nose,
And owners permitted each mine of the trust
To fill up with water to lay his dust,
She marshaled the women, with sabre and gun,
And marched with banners on Washington.”
Not the needle's shine, but the sabre's gleam
Delighted of old her heroic soul
And made her unloved of the Lords of Coal.
In that distant day when the miner ‘rose,’
And to spite his countenance severed his nose,
And owners permitted each mine of the trust
To fill up with water to lay his dust,
She marshaled the women, with sabre and gun,
And marched with banners on Washington.”
“I see, I see in these ruins gray
Through which you are urging your plowshare gay
The work of their hands, slender and white,
That plied the pick and the crowbar bright.”
Through which you are urging your plowshare gay
The work of their hands, slender and white,
That plied the pick and the crowbar bright.”
“The cannon, my friend,—but no harm was done,
For before the city was overrun
By the warrior-dames of that rebel rout
The politicians had cleaned it out,
And the stones that about the plain they spread
Were served to the poor when they asked for bread.”
For before the city was overrun
115
The politicians had cleaned it out,
And the stones that about the plain they spread
Were served to the poor when they asked for bread.”
“O affable plowman, I'd fain admire
Your tale, but, alas, I'm myself a liar!
Besides, I've a better one, which, mayhap,
You'd like to be hearing.”
“Giddap, giddap!”
Your tale, but, alas, I'm myself a liar!
Besides, I've a better one, which, mayhap,
You'd like to be hearing.”
“Giddap, giddap!”
| The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | |