When Gertrude Atherton pronounced the ladies
Of fair Manhattan hideous as Hades—
In eyes no splendor, and in cheeks no roses,
And, O ye godlings! rudimentary noses—
To pass a bad half-hour before their glasses,
Straight to their dressing-rooms ran dames and lasses,
Who, still dissenting from her curst appraisal,
Grew more pugnacious, but not less pugnasal.
Ladies, be calm: there’s nothing to distress you—
The Sacred Englishman will rise and bless you.
No noses—none to speak of—is alarming,
But that you can’t speak through them—that is charming!
Public-domain source text
A False Alarm
by Ambrose Bierce
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This is a source transcription from Standard Ebooks, published in Past Poetry’s public-domain archive without line-by-line editorial notes. Public-domain source edition. Availability can vary by territory.
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