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. In the night
2. A spirit sped
3. If there is a witness to my little life
4. When the prophet, a complacent fat man
5. Blustering God

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