This grave holds Barnes in all his glory—
Master he of oratOry.
When he died the people, weeping
(For they thought him only sleeping)
Cried: “Although he now is quiet
And his tongue is not a riot,
Soon, the spell that binds him breaking,
He a motion will be making.
Then, alas, he’ll rise and speak
In support of it a week.”
Public-domain source text
XXVIII
by Ambrose Bierce
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