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. Once a man clambering to the housetops
2. Blustering God
3. You tell me this is God?
4. Behold, from the land of the farther suns
5. Why do you strive for greatness, fool?

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