Shapes of Clay. Ambrose Bierce

      From the regions of the Night,

       Coming with recovered sight—

       From the spell of darkness free,

       What will Danenhower see?

       He will see when he arrives,

       Doctors taking human lives.

       He will see a learned judge

       Whose decision will not budge

       Till both litigants are fleeced

       And his palm is duly greased.

       Lawyers he will see who fight

       Day by day and night by night;

       Never both upon a side,

       Though their fees they still divide.

       Preachers he will see who teach

       That it is divine to preach—

       That they fan a sacred fire

       And are worthy of their hire.

       He will see a trusted wife

       (Pride of some good husband's life)

       Enter at a certain door

       And—but he will see no more.

       He will see Good Templars reel—

       See a prosecutor steal,

       And a father beat his child.

       He'll perhaps see Oscar Wilde.

       From the regions of the Night

       Coming with recovered sight—

       From the bliss of blindness free,

       That's what Danenhower'll see.

       1882.

THE TOWN OF DAE.

       Table of Contents

      Swains and maidens, young and old, You to me this tale have told. Where the squalid town of Dae Irks the comfortable sea, Spreading webs to gather fish, As for wealth we set a wish, Dwelt a king by right divine, Sprung from Adam's royal line, Town of Dae by the sea, Divers kinds of kings there be. Name nor fame had Picklepip: Ne'er a soldier nor a ship Bore his banners in the sun; Naught knew he of kingly sport, And he held his royal court Under an inverted tun. Love and roses, ages through, Bloom where cot and trellis stand; Never yet these blossoms grew— Never yet was room for two— In a cask upon the strand. So it happened, as it ought, That his simple schemes he wrought Through the lagging summer's day In a solitary way. So it happened, as was best, That he took his nightly rest With no dreadful incubus This way eyed and that way tressed, Featured thus, and thus, and thus, Lying lead-like on a breast By cares of State enough oppressed. Yet in dreams his fancies rude Claimed a lordly latitude. Town of Dae by the sea, Dreamers mate above their state And waken back to their degree. Once to cask himself away He prepared at close of day. As he tugged with swelling throat At a most unkingly coat— Not to get it off, but on, For the serving sun was gone— Passed a silk-appareled sprite Toward her castle on the height, Seized and set the garment right. Turned the startled Picklepip— Splendid crimson cheek and lip! Turned again to sneak away, But she bade the villain stay, Bade him thank her, which he did With a speech that slipped and slid, Sprawled and stumbled in its gait As a dancer tries to skate. Town of Dae by the sea, In the face of silk and lace Rags too bold should never be. Lady Minnow cocked her head: "Mister Picklepip," she said, "Do you ever think to wed?" Town of Dae by the sea, No fair lady ever made a Wicked speech like that to me! Wretched little Picklepip Said he hadn't any ship, Any flocks at his command, Nor to feed them any land; Said he never in his life Owned a mine to keep a wife. But the guilty stammer so That his meaning wouldn't flow; So he thought his aim to reach By some figurative speech: Said his Fate had been unkind Had pursued him from behind (How the mischief could it else?) Came upon him unaware, Caught him by the collar—there Gushed the little lady's glee Like a gush of golden bells: "Picklepip, why, that is me!" Town of Dae by the sea, Grammar's for great scholars—she Loved the summer and the lea. Stupid little Picklepip Allowed the subtle hint to slip— Maundered on about the ship That he did not chance to own; Told this grievance o'er and o'er, Knowing that she knew before; Told her how he dwelt alone. Lady Minnow, for reply, Cut him off with "So do I!" But she reddened at the fib; Servitors had she, ad lib. Town of Dae by the sea, In her youth who speaks no truth Ne'er shall young and honest be. Witless little Picklepip Manned again his mental ship And veered her with a sudden shift. Painted to the lady's thought How he wrestled and he wrought Stoutly with the swimming drift By the kindly river brought From the mountain to the sea, Fuel for the town of Dae. Tedious tale for lady's ear: From her castle on the height, She had watched her water-knight Through the seasons of a year, Challenge more than met his view And conquer better than he knew. Now she shook her pretty pate And stamped her foot—'t was growing late: "Mister Picklepip, when I Drifting seaward pass you by; When the waves my forehead kiss And my tresses float above— Dead and drowned for lack of love— You'll be sorry, sir, for this!" And the silly creature cried— Feared, perchance, the rising tide. Town of Dae by the sea, Madam Adam, when she had 'em, May have been as bad as she. Fiat lux! Love's lumination Fell in floods of revelation! Blinded brain by world aglare, Sense of pulses in the air, Sense of swooning and the beating Of a voice somewhere repeating Something indistinctly heard! And the soul of Picklepip Sprang upon his trembling lip, But he spake no further word Of the wealth he did not own; In that moment had outgrown Ship and mine and flock and land— Even his cask upon the strand. Dropped a stricken star to earth, Type of wealth and worldly worth. Clomb the moon into the sky, Type of love's immensity! Shaking silver seemed the sea, Throne of God the town of Dae! Town of Dae by the sea, From above there cometh love, Blessing all good souls that be.