The Complete Works of Stephen Crane (215 page)

XXXVI

I met a seer.
He held in his hands
The book of wisdom.
“Sir,” I addressed him,
“Let me read.”
“Child—” he began.
“Sir,” I said,
“Think not that I am a child,
“For already I know much
“Of that which you hold.
“Aye, much.”
He smiled.
Then he opened the book
And held it before me. —
Strange that I should have grown so suddenly blind.

XXXVII

On the horizon the peaks assembled;
And as I looked,
The march of the mountains began.
As they marched, they sang,
“Aye! We come! We come!”

XXXVIII

The ocean said to me once,
“Look!
“Yonder on the shore
“Is a woman, weeping.
“I have watched her.
“Go you and tell her this, —
“Her lover I have laid
“In cool green hall.
“There is wealth of golden sand
“And pillars, coral-red;
“Two white fish stand guard at his bier.
“Tell her this
“And more, —
“That the king of the seas
“Weeps too, old, helpless man.
“The bustling fates
“Heap his hands with corpses
“Until he stands like a child,
“With surplus of toys.”

XXXIX

The livid lightnings flashed in the clouds;
The leaden thunders crashed.
A worshipper raised his arm.
“Hearken! Hearken! The voice of God!”
“Not so,” said a man.
“The voice of God whispers in the heart
“So softly
“That the soul pauses,
“Making no noise,
“And strives for these melodies,
“Distant, sighing, like faintest breath,
“And all the being is still to hear.”

XL

And you love me?
I love you.
You are, then, cold coward.
Aye; but, beloved,
When I strive to come to you,
Man’s opinions, a thousand thickets,
My interwoven existence,
My life,
Caught in the stubble of the world
Like a tender veil, —
This stays me.
No strange move can I make
Without noise of tearing.
I dare not.
If love loves,
There is no world
Nor word.
All is lost
Save thought of love
And place to dream.
You love me?
I love you.
You are, then, cold coward.
Aye; but beloved —

XLI

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.

XLII

I walked in a desert.
And I cried,
“Ah, God, take me from this place!”
A voice said, “It is no desert.”
I cried, “Well, but —
“The sand, the heat, the vacant horizon.”
A voice said, “It is no desert.”

XLIII

There came whisperings in the winds
“Good bye! Good bye!”
Little voices called in the darkness:
“Good bye! Good bye!”
Then I stretched forth my arms.
“No — no—”
There came whisperings in the wind:
“Good bye! Good bye!”
Little voices called in the darkness:
“Good bye! Good bye!”

XLIV

I was in the darkness;
I could not see my words
Nor the wishes of my heart.
Then suddenly there was a great light —
“Let me into the darkness again.”

XLV

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.

XLVI

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.

XLVII

“Think as I think,” said a man,
“Or you are abominably wicked;
“You are a toad.”
And after I had thought of it,
I said, “I will, then, be a toad.”