Poem by Stephen Crane

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Tradition, thou art for suckling children,
Thou art the enlivening milk for babes;
But no meat for men is in thee.
Then --
But, alas, we all are babes.

1. To the maiden
2. Two or three angels
3. You tell me this is God?
4. Behold, from the land of the farther suns
5. Many red devils ran from my heart

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