Explore "Azrael" by Ambrose Bierce on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The moon in the field of the keel-plowed main / Was watching the growing tide: / A luminous peasant was driving his wain, / And he offered my soul a ride.
But I nourished a sorrow uncommonly tall, / And I fixed him fast with mine eye. / "O, peasant," I sang with a dying fall, / "Go leave me to sing and die."