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Poem by Stephen Crane * * * There was a great cathedral. To solemn songs, A white procession Moved toward the altar. The chief man there Was erect, and bore himself proudly. Yet some could see him cringe, As in a place of danger, Throwing frightened glances into the air, A-start at threatening faces of the past. Stephen Crane Stephen Crane's other poems: 1130 Views |
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