<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342713" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An Exile</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis the census enumerator<br>A-singing all forlorn:<br>It's ho! for the tall potater,<br>And ho! for the clustered corn.<br>The whiffle-tree bends in the breeze and the fine<br>Large eggs are a-ripening on the vine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Some there must be to till the soil<br>And the widow's weeds keep down.<br>I wasn't cut out for rural toil<br>But they _won't_ let me live in town!<br>They 're not so many by two or three,<br>As they think, but ah! they 're too many for me.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus the census man, bowed down with care,<br>Warbled his wood-note high.<br>There was blood on his brow and blood in his hair,<br>But he had no blood in his eye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ambrose+Bierce">Ambrose Bierce</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342713" data-title="An Exile de Ambrose Bierce" data-description="'Tis the census enumerator A-singing all forlorn: It's ho! for the tall potater, And ho! for the clustered corn. The whiffle-tree bends in the breeze and the fine Large eggs are a-ripening on the vine. 'Some there must be to till the soil And the..."></div> </div> </div>

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