| << Chapter < Page | Chapter >> Page > |
AND AFTER I HAD MUSED A TIME,
I SAID OF MYSELF,
“FOOL!”
View a high-resolution scan of the original page.
THERE WAS A MAN AND A WOMAN
WHO SINNED.
THEN DID THE MAN HEAP THE PUNISHMENT
ALL UPON THE HEAD OF HER,
AND WENT AWAY GAYLY.
THERE WAS A MAN AND A WOMAN
WHO SINNED.
AND THE MAN STOOD WITH HER.
AS UPON HER HEAD, SO UPON HIS,
FELL BLOW AND BLOW,
AND ALL PEOPLE SCREAMING, “FOOL!”
HE WAS A BRAVE HEART.
View a high-resolution scan of the original page.
HE WAS A BRAVE HEART.
WOULD YOU SPEAK WITH HIM, FRIEND?
WELL, HE IS DEAD,
AND THERE WENT YOUR OPPORTUNITY.
LET IT BE YOUR BRIEF
THAT HE IS DEAD
AND YOUR OPPORTUNITY GONE;
FOR, IN THAT, YOU WERE A COWARD.
View a high-resolution scan of the original page.
THERE WAS A MAN WHO LIVED A LIFE OF FIRE.
EVEN UPON THE FABRIC OF TIME,
WHERE PURPLE BECOMES ORANGE
AND ORANGE PURPLE,
THIS LIFE GLOWED,
A DIRE RED STAIN, INDELIBLE;
YET WHEN HE WAS DEAD,
HE SAW THAT HE HAD NOT LIVED.
View a high-resolution scan of the original page.
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.
View a high-resolution scan of the original page.
FRIEND, YOUR WHITE BEARD SWEEPS THE GROUND.
WHY DO YOU STAND, EXPECTANT?
DO YOU HOPE TO SEE IT
IN ONE OF YOUR WITHERED DAYS?
WITH OUR OLD EYES
DO YOU HOPE TO SEE
THE TRIUMPHAL MARCH OF JUSTICE?
DO NOT WAIT, FRIEND?
TAKE YOUR WHITE BEARD
AND YOUR OLD EYES
TO MORE TENDER LANDS.
View a high-resolution scan of the original page.
ONCE, I KNEW A FINE SONG,
—IT IS TRUE, BELIEVE ME,—
IT WAS ALL OF BIRDS,
AND I HELD THEM IN A BASKET;
WHEN I OPENED THE WICKET,
HEAVENS! THEY ALL FLEW AWAY.
I CRIED, “COME BACK, LITTLE THOUGHTS!”
BUT THEY ONLY LAUGHED.
THEY FLEW ON
UNTIL THEY WERE AS SAND
THROWN BETWEEN ME AND THE SKY.
View a high-resolution scan of the original page.
IF I SHOULD CAST OFF THIS TATTERED COAT,
AND GO FREE INTO THE MIGHTY SKY;
IF I SHOULD FIND NOTHING THERE
BUT A VAST BLUE,
ECHOLESS, IGNORANT,—
WHAT THEN!
View a high-resolution scan of the original page.
GOD LAY DEAD IN HEAVEN;
ANGELS SANG THE HYMN OF THE END;
PURPLE WINDS WENT MOANING,
THEIR WINGS DRIP-DROPPING
WITH BLOOD
THAT FELL UPON THE EARTH.
IT, GROANING THING,
TURNED BLACK AND BANK.
THEN FROM THE FAR CAVERNS
OF DEAD SINS
CAME MONSTERS, LIVID WITH DESIRE.
THEY FOUGHT,
WRANGLED OVER THE WORLD,
A MORSEL.
BUT OF ALL SADNESS THIS WAS SAD,—
A WOMAN’S ARMS TRIED TO SHIELD
THE HEAD OF A SLEEPING MAN
FROM THE JAWS OF THE FINAL BEAST.
View a high-resolution scan of the original page.
A SPIRIT SPED
THROUGH SPACES OF NIGHT;
AND AS HE SPED, HE CALLED,
“GOD! GOD!”
HE WENT THROUGH VALLEYS
OF BLACK DEATH-SLIME,
EVER CALLING,
“GOD! GOD!”
THEIR ECHOES
FROM CREVICE AND CAVERN
MOCKED HIM:
“GOD! GOD! GOD!”
FLEETLY INTO THE PLAINS OF SPACE
HE WENT, EVER CALLING,
“GOD! GOD!”
EVENTUALLY, THEN HE SCREAMED,
MAD IN DENIAL,
“AH, THERE IS NO GOD!”
View a high-resolution scan of the original page.
A SWIFT HAND,
A SWORD FROM THE SKY,
SMOTE HIM,
AND HE WAS DEAD.
View a high-resolution scan of the original page.
PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON AND SON CAMBRIDGE
Notification Switch
Would you like to follow the 'Stephen crane's "the black riders and other lines"' conversation and receive update notifications?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
