Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

I saw a man pursuing the horizon;
Round and round they sped.
I was disturbed at this;
I accosted the man.
”It is futile,” I said,
”You can never -”

”You lie,” he cried,
And ran on.

1. If I should cast off this tattered coat
2. There was a man and a woman
3. A man toiled on a burning road
4. Tell brave deeds of war
5. A spirit sped

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