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. A spirit sped
2. Many workmen
3. To the maiden
4. On the horizon the peaks assembled
5. "Think as I think," said a man

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