For Merit

Poem By Ambrose Bierce

To Parmentier Parisians raise
A statue fine and large:
He cooked potatoes fifty ways,
Nor ever led a charge.

'_Palmam qui meruit'_-the rest
You knew as well as I;
And best of all to him that best
Of sayings will apply.

Let meaner men the poet's bays
Or warrior's medal wear;
Who cooks potatoes fifty ways
Shall bear the palm-de terre.

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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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And I saw the Chief Forecaster, dead as any one can be--
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