Samuel Shortridge Poem by Ambrose Bierce

Samuel Shortridge



Like a worn mother he attempts in vain
To still the unruly Crier of his brain:
The more he rocks the cradle of his chin
The more uproarious grows the brat within.

Saturday, September 29, 2012
Topic(s) of this poem: mother
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Ambrose Bierce

Ambrose Bierce

Horse Cave Creek, Ohio
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