Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

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

To the sailor, wrecked,
The sea was dead grey walls
Superlative in vacancy,
Upon which nevertheless at fateful time
Was written
The grim hatred of nature.

1. You tell me this is God?
2. Once a man clambering to the housetops
3. In the night
4. Two or three angels
5. A newspaper is a collection of half-injustices

Print

1122 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version