Explore "My Monument" by Ambrose Bierce on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It is pleasant to think, as I'm watching my ink / A-drying along my paper, / That a monument fine will surely be mine / When death has extinguished my taper.
From each rhyming scribe of the journalist tribe / Purged clean of all sentiments narrow, / A pebble will mark his respect for the stark / Stiff body that's under the barrow.
By fellow-bards thrown, thus stone upon stone / Will make my celebrity deathless.
O, I wish I could think, as I gaze at my ink, / They'd wait till my carcass is breathless.