Stephen Crane

A little ink more or less! I surely can’t matter? Even the sky and the opulent sea, The plains and the hills, aloof, Hear the uproar of all these books. But it is only

Forth went the candid man And spoke freely to the wind When he looked about him he was in a far strange country. Forth went the candid man And spoke freely to the stars

Behold, from the land of the farther suns I returned. And I was in a reptile-swarming place, Peopled, otherwise, with grimaces, Shrouded above in black impenetrableness. I shrank, loathing, Sick with it. And I

There were many who went in huddled procession, They knew not whither; But, at any rate, success or calamity Would attend all in equality. There was one who sought a new road. He went

A man toiled on a burning road, Never resting. Once he saw a fat, stupid ass Grinning at him from a green place. The man cried out in rage, “Ah! Do not deride me,

Once there was a man Oh, so wise! In all drink He detected the bitter, And in all touch He found the sting. At last he cried thus: “There is nothing No life, No

A newspaper is a collection of half-injustices Which, bawled by boys from mile to mile, Spreads its curious opinion To a million merciful and sneering men, While families cuddle the joys of the fireside

A spirit sped Through spaces of night; And as he sped, he called, “God! God!” He went through valleys Of black death-slime, Ever calling, “God! God!” Their echoes From crevice and cavern Mocked him:

“What says the sea, little shell? What says the sea? Long has our brother been silent to us, Kept his message for the ships, Awkward ships, stupid ships.” “The sea bids you mourn, O

And you love me I love you. You are, then, cold coward. Aye; but, beloved, When I strive to come to you, Man’s opinions, a thousand thickets, My interwoven existence, My life, Caught in

To the maiden The sea was blue meadow, Alive with little froth-people Singing. To the sailor, wrecked, The sea was dead grey walls Superlative in vacancy, Upon which nevertheless at fateful time Was written

The successful man has thrust himself Through the water of the years, Reeking wet with mistakes Bloody mistakes; Slimed with victories over the lesser, A figure thankful on the shore of money. Then, with

The sage lectured brilliantly. Before him, two images: “Now this one is a devil, And this one is me.” He turned away. Then a cunning pupil Changed the positions. Turned the sage again: “Now

In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, Who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it. I said: “Is it good, friend?” “It is bitter –

A man saw a ball of gold in the sky; He climbed for it, And eventually he achieved it It was clay. Now this is the strange part: When the man went to the

Once, I knew a fine song, It is true, believe me It was all of birds, And I held them in a basket; When I opened the wicket, Heavens! They all flew away. I

There was a great cathedral. To solemn songs, A white procession Moved toward the altar. The chief man there Was erect, and bore himself proudly. Yet some could see him cringe, As in a

Fast rode the knight With spurs, hot and reeking, Ever waving an eager sword, “To save my lady!” Fast rode the knIght, And leaped from saddle to war. Men of steel flickered and gleamed

Walking in the sky, A man in strange black garb Encountered a radiant form. Then his steps were eager; Bowed he devoutly. “My Lord,” said he. But the spirit knew him not.

There was one I met upon the road Who looked at me with kind eyes. Her said, “Show me of your wares.” And this I did, Holding forth one. He said, “It is a

A youth in apparel that glittered Went to walk in a grim forest. There he met an assassin Attired all in garb of old days; He, scowling through the thickets, And dagger poised quivering,

There was crimson clash of war. Lands turned black and bare; Women wept; Babes ran, wondering. There came one who understood not these things. He said, “Why is this?” Whereupon a million strove to

There was a man with tongue of wood Who essayed to sing, And in truth it was lamentable. But there was one who heard The clip-clapper of this tongue of wood And knew what

Charity thou art a lie, A toy of women, A pleasure of certain men. In the presence of justice, Lo, the walls of the temple Are visible Through thy form of sudden shadows.

The impact of a dollar upon the heart Smiles warm red light, Sweeping from the hearth rosily upon the white table, With the hanging cool velvet shadows Moving softly upon the door. The impact

“Think as I think,” said a man, “Or you are abominably wicked; You are a toad.” And after I had thought of it, I said, “I will, then, be a toad.”

Should the wide world roll away, Leaving black terror, Limitless night, Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand Would be to me essential, If thou and thy white arms were there, And the

I stood musing in a black world, Not knowing where to direct my feet. And I saw the quick stream of men Pouring ceaselessly, Filled with eager faces, A torrent of desire. I called

The livid lightnings flashed in the clouds; The leaden thunders crashed. A worshipper raised his arm. “Hearken! Hearken! The voice of God!” “Not so,” said a man. “The voice of God whispers in the

I stood upon a high place, And saw, below, many devils Running, leaping, And carousing in sin. One looked up, grinning, And said, “Comrade! Brother!”

There came whisperings in the winds: “Good-bye! Good-bye!” Little voices called in the darkness: “Good-bye! Good-bye!” Then I stretched forth my arms. “No no “ There came whisperings in the wind “Good-bye! Good-bye!” Little

I was in the darkness; I could not see my words Nor the wishes of my heart. Then suddenly there was a great light “Let me into the darkness again.”

God fashioned the ship of the world carefully. With the infinite skill of an All-Master Made He the hull and the sails, Held He the rudder Ready for adjustment. Erect stood He, scanning His

I walked in a desert. And I cried, “Ah, God, take me from this place!” A voice said, “It is no desert.” I cried, “Well, But The sand, the heat, the vacant horizon.” A

“Truth,” said a traveller, “Is a rock, a mighty fortress; Often have I been to it, Even to its highest tower, From whence the world looks black.” “Truth,” said a traveller, “Is a breath,

Why do you strive for greatness, fool? Go pluck a bough and wear it. It is as sufficing. My Lord, there are certain barbarians Who tilt their noses As if the stars were flowers,

The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top Blood blood and torn grass Had marked the rise of his agony This lone hunter. The grey-green woods impassive Had watched the threshing of his limbs.

When a people reach the top of a hill, Then does God lean toward them, Shortens tongues and lengthens arms. A vision of their dead comes to the weak. The moon shall not be

The ocean said to me once, “Look! Yonder on the shore Is a woman, weeping. I have watched her. Go you and tell her this Her lover I have laid In cool green hall.

I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night, The sweep of each sad lost wave, The dwindling boom of the steel thing’s striving, The little cry of a man to a man,

Once I saw mountains angry, And ranged in battle-front. Against them stood a little man; Aye, he was no bigger than my finger. I laughed, and spoke to one near me, “Will he prevail?”

Three little birds in a row Sat musing. A man passed near that place. Then did the little birds nudge each other. They said, “He thinks he can sing.” They threw back their heads

Once there came a man Who said, “Range me all men of the world in rows.” And instantly There was terrific clamour among the people Against being ranged in rows. There was a loud

i Blustering God, Stamping across the sky With loud swagger, I fear You not. No, though from Your highest heaven You plunge Your spear at my heart, I fear You not. No, not if