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THE BLACK RIDERS AND OTHER LINES BY STEPHEN CRANE
BOSTON COPELAND AND DAY MDCCCXCV
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ENTERED ACCORDING TO THE ACT OF CONGRESS IN THE YEAR MDCCCXCV BY COPELAND AND DAY IN THE OFFICE OF THE LIBRARIAN OF CONGRESS AT WASHINGTON
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TO HAMLIN GARLAND
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BLACK RIDERS CAME FROM THE SEA.
THERE WAS CLANG AND CLANG OF SPEAR AND SHIELD,
AND CLASH AND CLASH OF HOOF AND HEEL,
WILD SHOUTS AND THE WAVE OF HAIR
IN THE RUSH UPON THE WIND:
THUS THE RIDE OF SIN.
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THREE LITTLE BIRDS IN A ROW
SAT MUSING.
A MAN PASSED NEAR THAT PLACE.
THEN DID THE LITTLE BIRDS NUDGE EACH OTHER.
THEY SAID, “HE THINKS HE CAN SING.”
THEY THREW BACK THEIR HEADS TO LAUGH.
WITH QUAINT COUNTENANCES
THEY REGARDED HIM.
THEY WERE VERY CURIOUS,
THOSE THREE LITTLE BIRDS IN A ROW.
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IN THE DESERT
I SAW A CREATURE, NAKED, BESTIAL,
WHO, SQUATTING UPON THE GROUND,
HELD HIS HEART IN HIS HANDS,
AND ATE OF IT.
I SAID, “IS IT GOOD, FRIEND?”
“IT IS BITTER—BITTER,” HE ANSWERED;
“BUT I LIKE IT
“BECAUSE IT IS BITTER,
“AND BECAUSE IT IS MY HEART.”
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YES, I HAVE A THOUSAND TONGUES,
AND NINE AND NINETY-NINE LIE.
THOUGH I STRIVE TO USE THE ONE,
IT WILL MAKE NO MELODY AT MY WILL,
BUT IS DEAD IN MY MOUTH.
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ONCE THERE CAME A MAN
WHO SAID,
“RANGE ME ALL MEN OF THE WORLD IN ROWS.”
AND INSTANTLY
THERE WAS TERRIFIC CLAMOR AMONG THE PEOPLE
AGAINST BEING RANGED IN ROWS.
THERE WAS A LOUD QUARREL, WORLD-WIDE.
IT ENDURED FOR AGES;
AND BLOOD WAS SHED
BY THOSE WHO WOULD NOT STAND IN ROWS,
AND BY THOSE WHO PINED TO STAND IN ROWS.
EVENTUALLY, THE MAN WENT TO DEATH, WEEPING.
AND THOSE WHO STAID IN BLOODY SCUFFLE
KNEW NOT THE GREAT SIMPLICITY.
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GOD FASHIONED THE SHIP OF THE WORLD CAREFULLY.
WITH THE INFINITE SKILL OF AN ALL-MASTER
MADE HE THE HULL AND THE SAILS,
HELD HE THE RUDDER
READY FOR ADJUSTMENT.
ERECT STOOD HE, SCANNING HIS WORK PROUDLY.
THEN—AT FATEFUL TIME—A WRONG CALLED,
AND GOD TURNED, HEEDING.
LO, THE SHIP, AT THIS OPPORTUNITY, SLIPPED SLYLY,
MAKING CUNNING NOISELESS TRAVEL DOWN THE WAYS.
SO THAT, FOREVER RUDDERLESS, IT WENT UPON THE SEAS
GOING RIDICULOUS VOYAGES,
MAKING QUAINT PROGRESS,
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TURNING AS WITH SERIOUS PURPOSE
BEFORE STUPID WINDS.
AND THERE WERE MANY IN THE SKY
WHO LAUGHED AT THIS THING.
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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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I LOOKED HERE;
I LOOKED THERE;
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