Fame [he Held A Book In His Knotty Paws]

Poem By Ambrose Bierce

He held a book in his knotty paws,
And its title grand read he:
'The Chronicles of the Kings' it was,
By the History Companee.
'I'm a monarch,' he said
(But a tear he shed)
'And my picter here you see.

'Great and lasting is my renown,
However the wits may flout
As wide almost as this blessed town'
(But he winced as if with gout).
'I paid 'em like sin
For to put me in,
But it's O, and O, to be out!'

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By sharp and flame, the thought reveal
That he the metal, she the stone,
Had cherished secretly alone.

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Once I dipt into the future far as human eye could see,
And I saw the Chief Forecaster, dead as any one can be--
Dead and damned and shut in Hades as a liar from his birth,
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I dreamed I stood upon a hill, and, lo!
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Thou shalt no God but me adore:
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