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.
XXXII
Two or three angels
Came near to the earth.
They saw a fat church.
Little black streams of people
Came and went in continually.
And the angels were puzzled
To know why the people went thus,
And why they stayed so long within.
XXXIII
There was one I met upon the road
Who looked at me with kind eyes.
He said, “Show me of your wares.”
And this I did,
Holding forth one.
He said, “It is a sin.”
Then held I forth another;
He said, “It is a sin.”
Then held I forth another;
He said, “It is a sin.”
And so to the end;
Always he said, “It is a sin.”
And, finally, I cried out,
“But I have none other.”
Then did he look at me
With kinder eyes.
“Poor soul!” he said.
XXXIV
I stood upon a highway,
And, behold, there came
Many strange pedlers.
To me each one made gestures.
Holding forth little images, saying,
“This is my pattern of God.
“Now this is the God I prefer.”
But I said, “Hence!
“Leave me with mine own,
“And take you yours away;
“I can’t buy of your patterns of God,
“The little Gods you may rightly prefer.”
XXXV
A man saw a ball of gold in the sky;
He climbed for it,
And eventually he achieved it —
It was clay.
Now this is the strange part:
When the man went to the earth
And looked again,
Lo, there was the ball of gold.
Now this is the strange part:
It was a ball of gold.
Aye, by the Heavens, it was a ball of gold.
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.”
XLVIII
Once there was a man, —
Oh, so wise!
In all drink
He detected the bitter,
And in all touch
He found the sting.
At last he cried thus:
“There is nothing, —
“No life,
“No joy,
“No pain, —
“There is nothing save opinion,
“And opinion be damned.”
XLIX
I stood musing in a black world,
Not knowing where to direct my feet.
And I saw the quick stream of men
Pouring ceaselessly,
Filled with eager faces,
A torrent of desire.
I called to them,
“Where do you go? What do you see?”
A thousand voices called to me.
A thousand fingers pointed.
“Look! Look! There!”
I know not of it.
But, lo! in the far sky shone a radiance
Ineffable, divine, —
A vision painted upon a pall;
And sometimes it was,
And sometimes it was not.
I hesitated.
Then from the stream
Came roaring voices,
Impatient:
“Look! Look! There!”
So again I saw,
And leaped, unhesitant,
And struggled and fumed
With outspread clutching fingers.
The hard hills tore my flesh;
The ways bit my feet.
At last I looked again.
No radiance in the far sky,
Ineffable, divine;
No vision painted upon a pall;
And always my eyes ached for the light.
Then I cried in despair,
“I see nothing! Oh, where do I go?”
The torrent turned again its faces:
“Look! Look! There!”
And at the blindness of my spirit
They screamed,
“Fool! Fool! Fool!”
L
You say you are holy,
And that
Because I have not seen you sin.
Aye, but there are those
Who see you sin, my friend.
LI
A man went before a strange god, —
The god of many men, sadly wise.
And the deity thundered loudly,
Fat with rage, and puffing,
“Kneel, mortal, and cringe
“And grovel and do homage
“To my particularly sublime majesty.”
The man fled.
Then the man went to another god, —
The god of his inner thoughts.
And this one looked at him
With soft eyes
Lit with infinite comprehension,
And said, “My poor child!”
LII
Why do you strive for greatness, fool?
Go pluck a bough and wear it.
It is as sufficing.
My lord, there are certain barbarians
Who tilt their noses
As if the stars were flowers,
And thy servant is lost among their shoe-buckles.
Fain would I have mine eyes even with their eyes.
Fool, go pluck a bough and wear it.
LIII
I
Blustering god,
Stamping across the sky
With loud swagger,
I fear you not.
No, though from your highest heaven
You plunge your spear at my heart,
I fear you not.
No, not if the blow
Is as the lightning blasting a tree,
I fear you not, puffing braggart.
II
If thou can see into my heart
That I fear thee not,
Thou wilt see why I fear thee not,
And why it is right.
So threaten not, thou, with thy bloody spears,
Else thy sublime ears shall hear curses.
III
Withal, there is one whom I fear;
I fear to see grief upon that face.
Perchance, Friend, he is not your god;
If so, spit upon him.
By it you will do no profanity.
But I —
Ah, sooner would I die
Than see tears in those eyes of my soul.
LIV
“It was wrong to do this,” said the angel.
“You should live like a flower,
“Holding malice like a puppy,
“Waging war like a lambkin.”
“Not so,” quoth the man
Who had no fear of spirits;
“It is only wrong for angels
“Who can live like the flowers,
“Holding malice like the puppies,
“Waging war like the lambkins.”
LV
A man toiled on a burning road,
Never resting.
Once he saw a fat, stupid ass
Grinning at him from a green place.
The man cried out in rage,
“Ah! Do not deride me, fool!
“I know you —
“All day stuffing your belly,
“Burying your heart
“In grass and tender sprouts:
“It will not suffice you.”
But the ass only grinned at him from the green place.
LVI
A man feared that he might find an assassin;
Another that he might find a victim.
One was more wise than the other.
LVII
With eye and with gesture
You say you are holy.
I say you lie;
For I did see you
Draw away your coats
From the sin upon the hands
Of a little child.
Liar!
LVIII
The sage lectured brilliantly.
Before him, two images:
“Now this one is a devil,
“And this one is me.”
He turned away.
Then a cunning pupil
Changed the positions.
Turned the sage again:
“Now this one is a devil,
“And this one is me.”
The pupils sat, all grinning,
And rejoiced in the game.
But the sage was a sage.
LIX
Walking in the sky,
A man in strange black garb
Encountered a radiant form.
Then his steps were eager;
Bowed he devoutly.
“My Lord,” said he.
But the spirit knew him not.
LX
Upon the road of my life,
Passed me many fair creatures,
Clothed all in white, and radiant.
To one, finally, I made speech:
“Who art thou?”
But she, like the others,
Kept cowled her face,
And answered in haste, anxiously,
“I am Good Deed, forsooth;
“You have often seen me.”
“Not uncowled,” I made reply.
And with rash and strong hand,
Though she resisted,
I drew away the veil
And gazed at the features of Vanity
She, shamefaced, went on;
And after I had mused a time,
I said of myself,
“Fool!”
LXI
I
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.
II
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.
III
He was a brave heart.
Would you speak with him, friend?
Well, he is dead,
And there
went your opportunity.
Let it be your grief
That he is dead
And your opportunity gone;
For, in that, you were a coward.
LXII
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.
LXIII
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.
LXIV
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 your 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.
LXV
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.
LXVI
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?
Complete Works of Stephen Crane Page 164
