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Stephen Crane (Стивен Крейн)


* * *


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,
And Thy servant is lost among their shoe-buckles.
Fain would I have mine eyes even with their eyes.

Fool, go pluck a bough and wear it.



Stephen Crane's other poems:
  1. Many red devils ran from my heart
  2. I stood upon a highway
  3. A little ink more or less!
  4. A slant of sun on dull brown walls
  5. And you love me


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