Author: Stephen Crane

Publisher:

Published: 2019-08-15

Total Pages: 82

ISBN-13: 9789353833749

The Black Riders and Other Lines is a book of poetry written by American author Stephen Crane (1871-1900). It was first published in 1895 by Copeland & Day. Black riders came from the sea. Three little birds in a row In the Desert Yes, I have a thousand tongues Once there came a man God fashioned the ship of the world carefully Mystic shadow, bending near me, I looked here I stood upon a high place, Should the wide world roll away, In a lonely place, "And the sins of the fathers shall be" If there is a witness to my little life, There was a crimson clash of war. "Tell brave deeds of war." There were many who went in huddled procession In heaven A god in wrath A learned man came to me once There was, before me Once I saw mountains angry Places among the stars I saw a man pursuing the horizon Behold, the grave of a wicked man There was set before me a mighty hill A youth in apparel that glittered "Truth," said a traveller Behold, from the land of the farther suns Supposing that I should have the courage Many workmen Two or three angels There was one I met upon the road I stood upon a highway A man saw a ball of gold in the sky I met a seer On the horizon the peaks assembled The ocean said to me once The livid lightnings flashed in the clouds And you love me Love walked alone I walked in a desert There came whisperings in the winds I was in the darkness Tradition, thou art for suckling children Many red devils ran from my heart "Think as I think," said a man Once there was a man I stood musing in a black world You say you are holy A man went before a strange God Why do you strive for greatness, fool? Blustering God "It was wrong to do this," said the angel A man toiled on a burning road A man feared that he might find an assassin With eye and with gesture The sage lectured brilliantly Walking in the sky Upon the road of my life There was a man and a woman There was a man who lived a life of fire There was a great cathedral Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground Once, I knew a fine song If I should cast off this tattered coat God lay dead in heaven A spirit sped