Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

When the prophet, a complacent fat man,
Arrived at the mountain-top,
He cried: ”Woe to my knowledge!
I intended to see good white lands
And bad black lands,
But the scene is grey.”

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

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