Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

Yes, I have a thousand tongues,
And nine and ninety-nine lie.
Though I strive to use the one,
It will make no melody at my will,
But is dead in my mouth.

1. A spirit sped
2. Many workmen
3. To the maiden
4. On the horizon the peaks assembled
5. "Think as I think," said a man

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