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. If I should cast off this tattered coat
2. There was a man and a woman
3. A man toiled on a burning road
4. Tell brave deeds of war
5. Upon the road of my life

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