 | The collected works of Ambrose Bierce |  |
TO THE BARTHOLDI STATUE
O Liberty, God-gifted—
Young and immortal maid—
In your high hand uplifted,
The torch declares your trade.
Young and immortal maid—
In your high hand uplifted,
The torch declares your trade.
Its crimson menace, flaming
Upon the sea and shore,
Is, trumpet-like, proclaiming
That Law shall be no more.
Upon the sea and shore,
Is, trumpet-like, proclaiming
That Law shall be no more.
Austere incendiary,
We're blinking in the light;
Where is your customary
Grenade of dynamite?
We're blinking in the light;
154
Grenade of dynamite?
Where are your staves and switches
For men of gentle birth?
Your mask and dirk for riches?
Your chains for wit and worth?
For men of gentle birth?
Your mask and dirk for riches?
Your chains for wit and worth?
Perhaps, you've brought the halters
You used in the old days,
When round religion's altars
You stabled Cromwell's bays?
You used in the old days,
When round religion's altars
You stabled Cromwell's bays?
Behind you, unsuspected,
Have you the axe, fair wench,
Wherewith you once collected
A poll-tax from the French?
Have you the axe, fair wench,
Wherewith you once collected
A poll-tax from the French?
America salutes you—
Preparing to “disgorge.”
Take everything that suits you,
And marry Henry George.
Preparing to “disgorge.”
Take everything that suits you,
And marry Henry George.
1894.
| The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | |