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Stephen Crane: The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top.
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…Stephen Crane: What says the sea, little shell?
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 Pines…Stephen Crane: The impact of a dollar upon the heart
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.…Stephen Crane: A man said to the universe:
A man said to the universe: "Sir, I exist!" "However," replied the universe, "The fact has not created in me "A sense of obligation."Stephen Crane: When the prophet, a complacent fat
When the prophet, a complacent fat man, Arrived at the mountain-top, He cried: "Woe to my knowledge! "I intended to see good white lands "And bad black lands, "But the scene is grey…Stephen Crane: There was a land where lived no
There was a land where lived no violets. A traveller at once demanded: "Why?" The people told him: "Once the violets of this place spoke thus: "'Until some woman freely give her lover "'To…Stephen Crane: There was one I met upon the road
There was one I met upon the road Who looked at me with kind eyes. He said: "Show me of your wares." And I did, Holding forth one, He said: "It is a sin." Then I held forth another. He said…Stephen Crane: Aye, workman, make me a dream,
Aye, workman, make me a dream, A dream for my love. Cunningly weave sunlight, Breezes, and flowers. Let it be of the cloth of meadows. And—good workman— And let there be a man walking thereon…Stephen Crane: Each small gleam was a voice,
Each small gleam was a voice, A lantern voice— In little songs of carmine, violet, green, gold. A chorus of colors came over the water; The wondrous leaf-shadow no longer wavered, No pines…Stephen Crane: The trees in the garden rained flowers.
The trees in the garden rained flowers. Children ran there joyously. They gathered the flowers Each to himself. Now there were some Who gathered great heaps— Having opportunity and skill—…Trending
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