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Poem by Stephen Crane


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A youth in apparel that glittered
Went to walk in a grim forest.
There he met an assassin
Attired all in garb of old days;
He, scowling through the thickets,
And dagger poised quivering,
Rushed upon the youth.
ФSir,Ф said this latter,
ФI am enchanted, believe me,
To die, thus,
In this medieval fashion,
According to the best legends;
Ah, what joy!Ф
Then took he the wound, smiling,
And died, content.



Stephen Crane


Stephen Crane's other poems:
  1. Why do you strive for greatness, fool?
  2. Once a man clambering to the housetops
  3. In heaven
  4. Mystic shadow, bending near me
  5. Two or three angels


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