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Poem by Stephen Crane


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I HEARD thee laugh,
And in this merriment
I defined the measure of my pain;
I knew that I was alone,
Alone with love,
Poor shivering love,
And he, little sprite,
Came to watch with me,
And at midnight
We were like two creatures by a dead camp-fire. 



Stephen Crane


Stephen Crane's other poems:
  1. Why do you strive for greatness, fool?
  2. The impact of a dollar upon the heart
  3. Once a man clambering to the housetops
  4. In heaven
  5. Mystic shadow, bending near me


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