Skip to content

Stephen Crane

I looked here;

I looked there;

Nowhere could I see my love.

And--this time--

Read full poem →

XXVII

6 lines
ou twain the same swift year of manhood sweptDown the steep darkness, and our father wept.And from the gleam of Apollonian tearsA holier aureole rounds your memories, keptMost fervent-fresh of all the singing spheres,And April-coloured through all months and years.