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. Many red devils ran from my heart
2. I stood upon a highway
3. Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground
4. A slant of sun on dull brown walls
5. I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night

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