Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

Behold, the grave of a wicked man,
And near it, a stern spirit.

There came a drooping maid with violets,
But the spirit grasped her arm.
”No flowers for him,” he said.
The maid wept:
”Ah, I loved him.”
But the spirit, grim and frowning:
”No flowers for him.”

Now, this is it --
If the spirit was just,
Why did the maid weep?

1. A man toiled on a burning road
2. Upon the road of my life
3. The successful man has thrust himself
4. I stood upon a highway
5. Mystic shadow, bending near me

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