Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

Three little birds in a row
Sat musing.
A man passed near that place.
Then did the little birds nudge each other.

They said, "He thinks he can sing."
They threw back their heads to laugh.
With quaint countenances
They regarded him.
They were very curious,
Those three little birds in a row.

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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