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Stephen Crane (Стивен Крейн)


* * *


There was crimson clash of war.
Lands turned black and bare;
Women wept;
Babes ran, wondering.
There came one who understood not these things.
He said, "Why is this?"
Whereupon a million strove to answer him.
There was such intricate clamour of tongues,
That still the reason was not.



Stephen Crane's other poems:
  1. "Have you ever made a just man?"
  2. A little ink more or less!
  3. There was set before me a mighty hill
  4. I have heard the sunset song of the birches
  5. On the desert


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