Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

On the horizon the peaks assembled;
And as I looked,
The march of the mountains began.
As they marched, they sang,
"Aye! We come! We come!"

1. If I should cast off this tattered coat
2. Two or three angels
3. Ay, workman, make me a dream
4. I walked in a desert
5. Love walked alone

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