English poem
Epigrams, XLIV (O proud philanthropist, your hope is…)
by Ambrose Bierce (1842–1914)
O proud philanthropist, your hope is vain To get by giving what you lost by gain. With every gift you do but swell the cloud Of witnesses against you, swift and loud— Accomplices who turn and swear you split Your life: half robber and half hypocrite. You’re least unsafe when most intact you hold Your curst allotment of dishonest gold.
More by Ambrose Bierce
- Epigrams, LIII (“There’s no free will,” says the…)
- Epigrams, LXXX (Artistically set to grace)
- Epigrams, X (A little heap of dust)
- Epigrams, XCV (Grief and discomfiture are coals that…)
- Epigrams, XLVI (If Inclination challenge, stand and fight)
- Epigrams, XVII (Strive not for singularity in dress)
- Epigrams, XXX (“I think,” says the philosopher divine)
- EXONERATION.