Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

Once, I knew a fine song,
-- It is true, believe me --
It was all of birds,
And I held them in a basket;
When I opened the wicket,
Heavens! They all flew away.
I cried, ”Come back, little thoughts!”
But they only laughed.
They flew on
Until they were as sand
Thrown between me and the sky.

1. A spirit sped
2. The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top
3. If I should cast off this tattered coat
4. A man toiled on a burning road
5. Upon the road of my life

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