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. Many red devils ran from my heart
2. And you love me
3. I stood upon a highway
4. There was set before me a mighty hill
5. Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground

Print

1222 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version