<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=343040" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Two Rogues</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dim, grim, and silent as a ghost,<br>The sentry occupied his post,<br>To all the stirrings of the night<br>Alert of ear and sharp of sight.<br>A sudden something-sight or sound,<br>About, above, or underground,<br>He knew not what, nor where-ensued,<br>Thrilling the sleeping solitude.<br>The soldier cried: 'Halt! Who goes there?'<br>The answer came: 'Death-in the air.'<br>'Advance, Death-give the countersign,<br>Or perish if you cross that line!'<br>To change his tone Death thought it wise<br>Reminded him they 'd been allies<br>Against the Russ, the Frank, the Turk,<br>In many a bloody bit of work.<br>'In short,' said he, 'in every weather<br>We've soldiered, you and I, together.'<br>The sentry would not let him pass.<br>'Go back,' he growled, 'you tiresome ass<br>Go back and rest till the next war,<br>Nor kill by methods all abhor:<br>Miasma, famine, filth and vice,<br>With plagues of locusts, plagues of lice,<br>Foul food, foul water, and foul gases,<br>Rank exhalations from morasses.<br>If you employ such low allies<br>This business you will vulgarize.<br>Renouncing then the field of fame<br>To wallow in a waste of shame,<br>I'll prostitute my strength and lurk<br>About the country doing work<br>These hands to labor I'll devote,<br>Nor cut, by Heaven, another throat!'</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=343040" data-title="Two Rogues de Ambrose Bierce" data-description="Dim, grim, and silent as a ghost, The sentry occupied his post, To all the stirrings of the night Alert of ear and sharp of sight. A sudden something-sight or sound, About, above, or underground, He knew not what, nor where-ensued, Thrilling the s..."></div> </div> </div>

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