Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

Once I saw mountains angry,
And ranged in battle-front.
Against them stood a little man;
Aye, he was no bigger than my finger.
I laughed, and spoke to one near me,
”Will he prevail?”
”Surely,” replied this other;
”His grandfathers beat them many times.”
Then did I see much virtue in grandfathers --
At least, for the little man
Who stood against the mountains.

1. A spirit sped
2. If there is a witness to my little life
3. In the night
4. Blustering God
5. A man toiled on a burning road

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