Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

A man feared that he might find an assassin;
Another that he might find a victim.
One was more wise than the other.

1. Many red devils ran from my heart
2. I stood upon a highway
3. Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground
4. A slant of sun on dull brown walls
5. I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night

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