Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

There was set before me a mighty hill,
And long days I climbed
Through regions of snow.
When I had before me the summit-view,
It seemed that my labour
Had been to see gardens
Lying at impossible distances.

1. If I should cast off this tattered coat
2. Ay, workman, make me a dream
3. A god in wrath
4. Two or three angels
5. If there is a witness to my little life

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