Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

Should the wide world roll away,
Leaving black terror,
Limitless night,
Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand
Would be to me essential,
If thou and thy white arms were there,
And the fall to doom a long way.

1. Tradition, thou art for suckling children
2. I saw a man pursuing the horizon
3. God fashioned the ship of the world carefully
4. In heaven
5. Mystic shadow, bending near me

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