Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

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.

1. Blustering God
2. The successful man has thrust himself
3. If I should cast off this tattered coat
4. With eye and with gesture
5. I stood upon a highway

Print

1693 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version