Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

A spirit sped
Through spaces of night;
And as he sped, he called,
”God! God!”
He went through valleys
Of black death-slime,
Ever calling,
”God! God!”
Their echoes
From crevice and cavern
Mocked him:
”God! God! God!”
Fleetly into the plains of space
He went, ever calling,
”God! God!”
Eventually, then, he screamed,
Mad in denial,
”Ah, there is no God!”
A swift hand,
A sword from the sky,
Smote him,
And he was dead.

1. Why do you strive for greatness, fool?
2. The impact of a dollar upon the heart
3. Once a man clambering to the housetops
4. In heaven
5. Mystic shadow, bending near me

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