Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

I

Blustering God,
Stamping across the sky
With loud swagger,
I fear You not.
No, though from Your highest heaven
You plunge Your spear at my heart,
I fear You not.
No, not if the blow
Is as the lightning blasting a tree,
I fear You not, puffing braggart.

II

If Thou canst see into my heart
That I fear Thee not,
Thou wilt see why I fear Thee not,
And why it is right.
So threaten not, Thou, with Thy bloody spears,
Else Thy sublime ears shall hear curses.

III

Withal, there is One whom I fear:
I fear to see grief upon that face.
Perchance, friend, He is not your God;
If so, spit upon Him.
By it you will do no profanity.
But I --
Ah, sooner would I die
Than see tears in those eyes of my soul.

1. Many red devils ran from my heart
2. I stood upon a highway
3. There was set before me a mighty hill
4. Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground
5. A slant of sun on dull brown walls

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