Explore "Contemplation" by Ambrose Bierce on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I muse upon the distant town / In many a dreamy mood.
Above my head the sunbeams crown / The graveyard's giant rood.
The lupin blooms among the tombs.
The quail recalls her brood.
Ah, good it is to sit and trace / The shadow of the cross; / It moves so still from place to place / O'er marble, bronze and moss; / With graves to mark upon its arc / Our time's eternal loss.
And sweet it is to watch the bee / That reve's in the rose, / And sense the fragrance floating free / On every breeze that blows / O'er many a mound, where, safe and sound, / Mine enemies repose.