Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

Places among the stars,
Soft gardens near the sun,
Keep your distant beauty;
Shed no beams upon my weak heart.
Since she is here
In a place of blackness,
Not your golden days
Nor your silver nights
Can call me to you.
Since she is here
In a place of blackness,
Here I stay and wait

1. If I should cast off this tattered coat
2. Ay, workman, make me a dream
3. A god in wrath
4. Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground
5. Two or three angels

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