Explore "Fallen" by Ambrose Bierce on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
O, hadst thou died when thou wert great, / When at thy feet a nation knelt / To sob the gratitude it felt / And thank the Saviour of the State, / Gods might have envied thee thy fate!
Then was the laurel round thy brow, / And friend and foe spoke praise of thee, / While all our hearts sang victory.
Alas! thou art too base to bow / To hide the shame that brands it now.