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A poem by Ambrose Bierce |
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The Weather Wight |
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Title: The Weather Wight Author: Ambrose Bierce [More Titles by Bierce] The way was long, the hill was steep, The night enshrouded me in gloom, The trampling of the surges vast "God help the mariner," I cried, Then from the impenetrable dark "For this locality--warm, bright; "Unseen consoler-man," I cried, "Thanks--but my care is somewhat less "Could I but find a friendly roof, "For he whose comfort is secure "The latch-string's out," the voice replied, Then through the darkness I discerned Groping about beneath its thatch, A candle by that gleam betrayed A pallid, bald and thin old man "Through summer suns and winter snows "I rambles with increasin' pain "Rewards and honors pass me by-- Filled with astonishment, I spoke: "With observation of your toes "And swallow me if e'er I knew To answer me that ancient swain "Through winter snows and summer suns "I calls the turn, and can declare "Three times a day I sings out clear "Some weather stations run with light "A scientist from times remote, "And when I h'ist the 'rainy' sign "Not mine, O marvelous old man, "Yet here no instruments there be-- "Did you (if questions you permit) That strange old man with motion rude "Tools (and sarcazzems too) I scorns-- "No doors and windows here you see-- "No fires nor lights, no wool nor fur "My corns unleathered I expose "No stockin' from their ears keeps out "Sich delicacy some has got "This here one says (for that he's best): "This feller's vitals is transfixed "One chap jes' now is occy'pied "I've shaved this cuss so thin and true "Sech are my tools, which ne'er a swell "By long a-studyin' their throbs Much more, no doubt, he would have said, For in mine eye's indignant green Till all at once, with silent squeals, [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |