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1842–1914

THE PIUTE

Ambrose Bierce

Unbeautiful is the Piute! Howe'er bedecked with bravery, His person is unsavory — Of soap he's destitute.

He multiplies upon the earth In spite of all admonishing; All censure his astonishing And versatile unworth.

Upon the Reservation wide We give for his inhabiting He goes a-jackass rabbiting To furnish his inside.

The hopper singing in the grass He seizes with avidity: He loves its tart acidity, And gobbles all that pass.

He penetrates the spider's veil, Industriously pillages The toads’ defenseless villages, And shadows home the snail.

He lightly runs to earth the quaint Red worm and, deftly troweling, He makes it with his boweling Familiarly acquaint.

He tracks the pine-nut to its lair, Surrounds it with celerity, Regards it with asperity — Smiles, and it is n't there!

I wish he'd open up a grin Of adequate vivacity And carrying capacity To take his Agent in.

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THE PIUTE · Ambrose Bierce · Poetry Cove