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. Many red devils ran from my heart
2. And you love me
3. I stood upon a highway
4. A little ink more or less!
5. There was set before me a mighty hill

Print

1240 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version