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Stephen Crane: Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind. Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky And the affrighted steed ran on alone, Do not weep. War is kind. Hoarse, booming drums of the…Stephen Crane: You tell me this is God?
You tell me this is God? I tell you this is a printed list, A burning candle and an ass.Stephen Crane: On the desert
On the desert A silence from the moon's deepest valley. Fire rays fall athwart the robes Of hooded men, squat and dumb. Before them, a woman Moves to the blowing of shrill whistles And…Stephen Crane: A newspaper is a collection of half-injustices
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…Stephen Crane: The wayfarer,
The wayfarer, Perceiving the pathway to truth, Was struck with astonishment. It was thickly grown with weeds. "Ha," he said, "I see that none has passed here "In a long time." Later he saw…Stephen Crane: A slant of sun on dull brown walls,
A slant of sun on dull brown walls, A forgotten sky of bashful blue. Toward God a mighty hymn, A song of collisions and cries, Rumbling wheels, hoof-beats, bells, Welcomes, farewells, love-…Stephen Crane: Once a man clambering to the housetops
Once a man clambering to the housetops Appealed to the heavens. With a strong voice he called to the deaf spheres; A warrior's shout he raised to the suns. Lo, at last, there was a dot on…Stephen Crane: There was a man with tongue of wood
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 the man Wished to…Stephen Crane: The successful man has thrust himself
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…Stephen Crane: In the night
In the night Grey heavy clouds muffled the valleys, And the peaks looked toward God alone. "O Master that movest the wind with a finger, "Humble, idle, futile peaks are we. "…Trending
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