Love walked alone | Poem by Stephen Crane

Love walked alone Poem 

………………. by Stephen Crane

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Love walked alone.

The rocks cut her tender feet,
And the brambles tore her fair limbs.

There came a companion to her,
But, alas, he was no help,
For his name was heart’s pain.

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Stephen Crane – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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Many red devils ran from my heart | Poem by Stephen Crane

Many red devils ran from my heart Poem 

………………. by Stephen Crane

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Many red devils ran from my heart
And out upon the page,
They were so tiny
The pen could mash them.

And many struggled in the ink.

It was strange
To write in this red muck
Of things from my heart.

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Stephen Crane – Wikipedia

Stephen Crane – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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Many workmen | Poem by Stephen Crane

Many workmen Poem 

………………. by Stephen Crane

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Many workmen
Built a huge ball of masonry
Upon a mountain-top.

Then they went to the valley below,
And turned to behold their work.

“It is grand,” they said;
They loved the thing.

Of a sudden, it moved:
It came upon them swiftly;
It crushed them all to blood.

But some had opportunity to squeal.

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Stephen Crane – Wikipedia

Stephen Crane – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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Mystic shadow bending near me | Poem by Stephen Crane

Mystic shadow bending near me Poem 

………………. by Stephen Crane

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Mystic shadow, bending near me,
Who art thou?
Whence come ye?
And — tell me — is it fair
Or is the truth bitter as eaten fire?

Tell me!
Fear not that I should quaver.

For I dare — I dare.

Then, tell me!

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Stephen Crane – Wikipedia

Stephen Crane – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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On the desert | Poem by Stephen Crane

On the desert Poem 

………………. by Stephen Crane

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On the desert
A silence from the moon’s deepest valley.

Fire rays fall athwart the robes
Of hooded men, squat and dumb.

Before them, a woman
Moves to the blowing of shrill whistles
And distant thunder of drums,
While mystic things, sinuous, dull with terrible colour,
Sleepily fondle her body
Or move at her will, swishing stealthily over the sand.

The snakes whisper softly;
The whispering, whispering snakes,
Dreaming and swaying and staring,
But always whispering, softly whispering.

The wind streams from the lone reaches
Of Arabia, solemn with night,
And the wild fire makes shimmer of blood
Over the robes of the hooded men
Squat and dumb.

Bands of moving bronze, emerald, yellow,
Circle the throat and the arms of her,
And over the sands serpents move warily
Slow, menacing and submissive,
Swinging to the whistles and drums,
The whispering, whispering snakes,
Dreaming and swaying and staring,
But always whispering, softly whispering.

The dignity of the accursed;
The glory of slavery, despair, death,
Is in the dance of the whispering snakes.

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Stephen Crane – Wikipedia

Stephen Crane – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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