I've sometimes wished that Ingersoll were wise
To hold his tongue, nor rail against the skies;
For when he's made a point some pious dunce
Like Bartlett of the _Bulletin_ 'replies.'

I brandish no iconoclastic fist,
Nor enter the debate an atheist;
But when they say there is a God I ask
Why Bartlett, then, is suffered to exist.

Even infidels that logic might resent,
Saying: 'There's no place for his punishment
That's worse than earth.' But humbly I submit
That he would make a hell wherever sent.

More verses by Ambrose Bierce