Poems by Stephen Crane
If I should cast off this tattered coat
... If I should cast off this tattered coat, ...
When the prophet, a complacent fat man,
... When the prophet, a complacent fat man, ...
There was a man with tongue of wood
... The clip-clapper of this tongue of wood ...
Once, I knew a fine song
... I cried, "Come back, little thoughts!" ...
With eye and with gesture
... From the sin upon the hands ...
There was a land where lived no violets.
... "Once the violets of this place spoke thus: ...
On the horizon the peaks assembled
... On the horizon the peaks assembled ...
Behold, from the land of the farther suns
... I returned. And I was in a reptile-swarming place, ...
The impact of a dollar upon the heart
... Sweeping from the hearth rosily upon the white table, ...
Ay, workman, make me a dream,
... And let there be a man walking thereon ...
Each small gleam was a voice,
... When the marvellous chorus comes over the water, ...
Tradition, thou art for suckling children
... Tradition, thou art for suckling children, ...
A newspaper is a collection of half-injustices
... While families cuddle the joys of the fireside ...
A slant of sun on dull brown walls,
... A cluttered incoherency that says at the stars: ...
I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night,
... I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night, ...
