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Poem by Stephen Crane


"Truth," said a traveller


Truth, said a traveller,
Is a rock, a mighty fortress;
Often have I been to it,
Even to its highest tower,
From whence the world looks black.

Truth, said a traveller,
Is a breath, a wind,
A shadow, a phantom;
Long have I pursued it,
But never have I touched
The hem of its garment.

And I believed the second traveller;
For truth was to me
A breath, a wind,
A shadow, a phantom,
And never had I touched
The hem of its garment.



Stephen Crane


Stephen Crane's other poems:
  1. Mystic shadow, bending near me
  2. There were many who went in huddled procession
  3. When a people reach the top of a hill
  4. Why do you strive for greatness, fool?
  5. The impact of a dollar upon the heart


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