All Poems

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When the prophet, a complacent fat man,

© Stephen Crane

When the prophet, a complacent fat man,
Arrived at the mountain-top,
He cried: "Woe to my knowledge!
I intended to see good white lands
And bad black lands,
But the scene is grey."

If I should cast off this tattered coat

© Stephen Crane

If I should cast off this tattered coat,
And go free into the mighty sky;
If I should find nothing there
But a vast blue,
Echoless, ignorant --
What then?

The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top

© Stephen Crane

Blood -- blood and torn grass --
Had marked the rise of his agony --
This lone hunter.
The grey-green woods impassive
Had watched the threshing of his limbs.

A man toiled on a burning road

© Stephen Crane

A man toiled on a burning road,
Never resting.
Once he saw a fat, stupid ass
Grinning at him from a green place.

A man feared that he might find an assassin

© Stephen Crane

A man feared that he might find an assassin;
Another that he might find a victim.
One was more wise than the other.

Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground

© Stephen Crane

Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground.
Why do you stand, expectant?
Do you hope to see it
In one of your withered days?

There was set before me a mighty hill

© Stephen Crane

There was set before me a mighty hill,
And long days I climbed
Through regions of snow.
When I had before me the summit-view,

"Have you ever made a just man?"

© Stephen Crane

"Have you ever made a just man?"
"Oh, I have made three," answered God,
"But two of them are dead,
And the third --
Listen! Listen!
And you will hear the thud of his defeat."

A little ink more or less!

© Stephen Crane

A little ink more or less!
I surely can't matter?
Even the sky and the opulent sea,
The plains and the hills, aloof,
Hear the uproar of all these books.
But it is only a little ink more or less.

A man went before a strange God

© Stephen Crane

Then the man went to another God --
The God of his inner thoughts.
And this one looked at him
With soft eyes
Lit with infinite comprehension,
And said, "My poor child!"

The livid lightnings flashed in the clouds

© Stephen Crane

The livid lightnings flashed in the clouds;
The leaden thunders crashed.
A worshipper raised his arm.
"Hearken! Hearken! The voice of God!"

The successful man has thrust himself

© Stephen Crane

The successful man has thrust himself
Through the water of the years,
Reeking wet with mistakes --
Bloody mistakes;

To the maiden

© Stephen Crane

To the maiden
The sea was blue meadow,
Alive with little froth-people
Singing.

There were many who went in huddled procession

© Stephen Crane

There were many who went in huddled procession,
They knew not whither;
But, at any rate, success or calamity
Would attend all in equality.

I stood musing in a black world

And at the blindness of my spirit
They screamed,
"Fool! fool! fool!"

Blustering God

If Thou canst see into my heart
That I fear Thee not,
Thou wilt see why I fear Thee not,
And why it is right.
So threaten not, Thou, with Thy bloody spears,
Else Thy sublime ears shall hear curses.

There was a man who lived a life of fire

There was a man who lived a life of fire.
Even upon the fabric of time,
Where purple becomes orange
And orange purple,

Many workmen

Of a sudden, it moved:
It came upon them swiftly;
It crushed them all to blood.
But some had opportunity to squeal.

Why do you strive for greatness, fool?

Why do you strive for greatness, fool?
Go pluck a bough and wear it.
It is as sufficing.

You say you are holy

You say you are holy,
And that
Because I have not seen you sin.
Aye, but there are those
Who see you sin, my friend.