Explore "Subterranean Phantasies" by Ambrose Bierce on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I died. As meekly in the earth I lay, / With shriveled fingers reverently folded, / The worm -- uncivil engineer! -- my clay / Tunneled industriously, and the mole did.
My body could not dodge them, but my soul did; / For that had flown from this terrestrial ball / And I was rid of it for good and all.