Explore "A Wet Season" by Ambrose Bierce on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Horas non numero nisi serenas.
The rain is fierce, it flogs the earth, / And man's in danger.
O that my mother at my birth / Had borne a stranger! / The flooded ground is all around.
The depth uncommon.
How blest I'd be if only she / Had borne a salmon.
If still denied the solar glow / 'T were bliss ecstatic / To be amphibious -- but O, / To be aquatic! / We're worms, men say, o' the dust, and they / That faith are firm of.
O, then, be just: show me some dust / To be a worm of.
The pines are chanting overhead / A psalm uncheering.
It's O, to have been for ages dead / And hard of hearing! / Restore, ye Pow'rs, the last bright hours / The dial reckoned; / 'Twas in the time of Egypt's prime -- / Rameses II.