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Poem by Stephen Crane


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In a lonely place,
I encountered a sage
Who sat, all still,
Regarding a newspaper.
He accosted me:
"Sir, what is this?"
Then I saw that I was greater,
Aye, greater than this sage.
I answered him at once,
"Old, old man, it is the wisdom of the age."
The sage looked upon me with admiration.



Stephen Crane


Stephen Crane's other poems:
  1. Tradition, thou art for suckling children
  2. I saw a man pursuing the horizon
  3. In heaven
  4. Mystic shadow, bending near me
  5. There was crimson clash of war


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