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Poem by Stephen Crane
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Behold, from the land of the farther suns I returned. And I was in a reptile-swarming place, Peopled, otherwise, with grimaces, Shrouded above in black impenetrableness. I shrank, loathing, Sick with it. And I said to him, "What is this?" He made answer slowly, "Spirit, this is a world; This was your home."
Stephen Crane's other poems:
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