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Poem by Stephen Crane


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There was crimson clash of war.
Lands turned black and bare;
Women wept;
Babes ran, wondering.
There came one who understood not these things.
He said, "Why is this?"
Whereupon a million strove to answer him.
There was such intricate clamour of tongues,
That still the reason was not.



Stephen Crane


Stephen Crane's other poems:
  1. Mystic shadow, bending near me
  2. There were many who went in huddled procession
  3. When a people reach the top of a hill
  4. Why do you strive for greatness, fool?
  5. The impact of a dollar upon the heart


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