 | The collected works of Ambrose Bierce |  |
THE CRIME OF 1903
Time was, not very long ago,
As by historians time is reckoned,
When first of virtues here below
Was hatred of secession, though
Some swore it wasn't even second;
But these (they mostly were down South)
Have all renounced their view with candor—
Some tardily by word of mouth,
Some, earlier, in a manner grander.
As by historians time is reckoned,
When first of virtues here below
Was hatred of secession, though
Some swore it wasn't even second;
But these (they mostly were down South)
Have all renounced their view with candor—
Some tardily by word of mouth,
Some, earlier, in a manner grander.
To stamp their error out, 'tis true,
We paid enough of blood (the treasure
Would pave with gold an avenue)
To float a battleship or two,
If so the cost we choose to measure.
'Twas worth it all, we say and say—
The President has often said it;
And so it was—to us; and they
Say nothing, as a rule, who shed it.
We paid enough of blood (the treasure
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To float a battleship or two,
If so the cost we choose to measure.
'Twas worth it all, we say and say—
The President has often said it;
And so it was—to us; and they
Say nothing, as a rule, who shed it.
“Times change and we change with them,” men
Of old renown averred in Latin;
And that's as true on tongue or pen
This blessed century as when
The seat of empire Cæsar sat in.
For see how many play their parts
As ardent lovers of secession,
Promoting it with all their hearts—
In countries out of our possession.
Of old renown averred in Latin;
And that's as true on tongue or pen
This blessed century as when
The seat of empire Cæsar sat in.
For see how many play their parts
As ardent lovers of secession,
Promoting it with all their hearts—
In countries out of our possession.
O men of variable views,
How can you be so light and fickle?
Is it because you think the news
From Panama portends no bruise
To you, nor payment of a nickel?
Nay, is it that you scent a gain
In troubles of a neighbor nation,
And so appraise her loss and pain
As nothing worth a valuation?
How can you be so light and fickle?
Is it because you think the news
From Panama portends no bruise
To you, nor payment of a nickel?
Nay, is it that you scent a gain
In troubles of a neighbor nation,
And so appraise her loss and pain
As nothing worth a valuation?
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Those ills 'tis easy to endure
That light upon and sting another—
That's Christian fortitude; but sure
There's somewhere an account of your
Least feeling toward a hapless brother.
Himself may show by deed and speech
Less racial sympathies than tribal,
But—well, this is no place to preach;
The sermon's mostly in the Bible.
That light upon and sting another—
That's Christian fortitude; but sure
There's somewhere an account of your
Least feeling toward a hapless brother.
Himself may show by deed and speech
Less racial sympathies than tribal,
But—well, this is no place to preach;
The sermon's mostly in the Bible.
We're false to trust and quick to spy
The fissure in a friendly armor,
Even Freedom can no more rely
Upon our promise not to harm her.
O Guardian of Continents,
My country! shall that evil dower,
The passion for preëminence,
Cry from thy seaward battlements
A soul already drunk with power?
The fissure in a friendly armor,
Even Freedom can no more rely
Upon our promise not to harm her.
O Guardian of Continents,
My country! shall that evil dower,
The passion for preëminence,
Cry from thy seaward battlements
A soul already drunk with power?
1903.
| The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | |