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. Once a man clambering to the housetops
2. In the night
3. You tell me this is God?
4. Behold, from the land of the farther suns
5. I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night

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