 | The collected works of Ambrose Bierce |  |
Peace, n.
[O, what's the loud uproar assailing]
O, what's the loud uproar assailing
Mine ears without cease?
'Tis the voice of the hopeful, all-hailing
The horrors of peace.
Mine ears without cease?
'Tis the voice of the hopeful, all-hailing
The horrors of peace.
249
Ah, Peace Universal; they woo it—
Would marry it, too.
If only they knew how to do it
'Twere easy to do.
Would marry it, too.
If only they knew how to do it
'Twere easy to do.
They're working by night and by day
On their problem, like moles.
Have mercy, O Heaven, I pray,
On their meddlesome souls!
On their problem, like moles.
Have mercy, O Heaven, I pray,
On their meddlesome souls!
Ro Amil.
| The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | |