Explore "Famine's Realm" by Ambrose Bierce on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
To him in whom the love of Nature has / Imperfectly supplanted the desire / And dread necessity of food, your shore, / Fair Oakland, is a terror. Over all / Your sunny level, from Tamaletown / To where the Pestuary's fragrant slime, / With dead dogs studded, bears its ailing fleet, / Broods the still menace of starvation. Bones / Of men and women bleach along the ways / And pampered vultures sleep upon the trees.
It is a land of death, and Famine there / Holds sovereignty; though some there be her sway / Who challenge, and intrenched in larders live, / Drawing their sustentation from abroad.