 | The collected works of Ambrose Bierce |  |
[Alas, things ain't what we should see]
Alas, things ain't what we should seeIf Eve had let that apple be;
And many a feller which had ought
To set with monarchses of thought,
Or play some rosy little game
With battle-chaps on fields of fame,
Is downed by his unlucky star,
And hollers: “Peanuts!—here you are!”
“The Sturdy Beggar.”
| The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | |