Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

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."

1. Once a man clambering to the housetops
2. Blustering God
3. You tell me this is God?
4. I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night
5. On the horizon the peaks assembled

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