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The Spirit Of A Sponge Post by :sedan55 Category :Poems Author :Ambrose Bierce Date :March 2011 Read :3220

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The Spirit Of A Sponge

I dreamed one night that Stephen Massett died,
And for admission up at Heaven applied.
"Who are you?" asked St. Peter. Massett said:
"Jeems Pipes, of Pipesville." Peter bowed his head,
Opened the gates and said: "I'm glad to know you,
And wish we'd something better, sir, to show you."
"Don't mention it," said Stephen, looking bland,
And was about to enter, hat in hand,
When from a cloud below such fumes arose
As tickled tenderly his conscious nose.
He paused, replaced his hat upon his head,
Turned back and to the saintly warden said,
O'er his already sprouting wings: "I swear
I smell some broiling going on down there!"
So Massett's paunch, attracted by the smell,
Followed his nose and found a place in Hell.

(The end)
Ambrose Bierce's poem: Spirit Of A Sponge

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Ornithanthropos Ornithanthropos

"Let John P. Irish rise!" the edict rangAs when Creation into being sprang!Nature, not clearly understanding, triedTo make a bird that on the air could ride.But naught could baffle the creative plan--Despite her efforts 'twas almost a man.Yet he had risen--to the bird a twin--Had she but fixed a wing upon his chin.(The end)Ambrose Bierce's poem: Ornithanthropos

An Art Critic An Art Critic

An Art Critic
Ira P. Rankin, you've a nasal name--I'll sound it through "the speaking-trump of fame,"And wondering nations, hearing from afarThe brazen twang of its resounding jar,Shall say: "These bards are an uncommon class--They blow their noses with a tube of brass!"Rankin! ye gods! if Influenza pickOur names at christening, and such names stick,Let's all be born when summer suns withstandHer prevalence and chase her from the land,And healing breezes generously helpTo shield from death each ailing human whelp!"What's in a name?" There's much at least in yoursThat the pained ear unwillingly endures,And much to make the suffering soul, I fear,Envy the lesser