Explore "One Mood's Expression" by Ambrose Bierce on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
See, Lord, fanatics all arrayed / For revolution! / To foil their villainous crusade / Unsheathe again the sacred blade / Of persecution.
What though through long disuse 't is grown / A trifle rusty? / 'Gainst modern heresy, whose bone / Is rotten, and the flesh fly-blown, / It still is trusty.
Of sterner stuff thine ancient foes, / Unapprehensive, / Sprang forth to meet thy biting blows; / Our zealots chiefly to the nose / Assume the offensive.
Then wield the blade their necks to hack, / Nor ever spare one.
Thy crowns of martyrdom unpack, / But see that every martyr lack / The head to wear one.