Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

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. 

1. A spirit sped
2. If there is a witness to my little life
3. In the night
4. Blustering God
5. A man toiled on a burning road

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