<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342754" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Charles And Peter</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ere Gabriel's note to silence died<br>All graves of men were gaping wide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then Charles A. Dana, of 'The Sun,'<br>Rose slowly from the deepest one.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'The dead in Christ rise first, 't is writ,'<br>Quoth he-'ick, bick, ban, doe,-I'm It!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">(His headstone, footstone, counted slow,<br>Were 'ick' and 'bick,' he 'ban' and 'doe':</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of beating Nick the subtle art<br>Was part of his immortal part.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then straight to Heaven he took his flight,<br>Arriving at the Gates of Light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There Warden Peter, in the throes<br>Of sleep, lay roaring in the nose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Get up, you sluggard!' Dana cried<br>'I've an engagement there inside.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Saint arose and scratched his head.<br>'I recollect your face,' he said.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'(And, pardon me, 't is rather hard),<br>But--' Dana handed him a card.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ah, yes, I now remember-bless<br>My soul, how dull I am I-yes, yes,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'We've nothing better here than bliss.<br>Walk in. But I must tell you this:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'We've rest and comfort, though, and peace.'<br>'H'm-puddles,' Dana said, 'for geese.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Have you in Heaven no Hell?' 'Why, no,'<br>Said Peter, 'nor, in truth, below.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">''T is not included in our scheme-<br>'T is but a preacher's idle dream.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The great man slowly moved away.<br>'I'll call,' he said, 'another day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'On earth I played it, o'er and o'er,<br>And Heaven without it were a bore.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O, stuff!-come in. You'll make,' said Pete,<br>'A hell where'er you set your feet.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">1885.</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=342754" data-title="Charles And Peter de Ambrose Bierce" data-description="Ere Gabriel's note to silence died All graves of men were gaping wide. Then Charles A. Dana, of 'The Sun,' Rose slowly from the deepest one. 'The dead in Christ rise first, 't is writ,' Quoth he-'ick, bick, ban, doe,-I'm It!' (His headstone, fo..."></div> </div> </div>

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