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. Once a man clambering to the housetops
2. I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night
3. In the night
4. To the maiden
5. You tell me this is God?

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