Stephen Crane

              *  *  *

                   To the maiden 
                   The sea was blue meadow 
                   Alive with little froth-people 

                   To the sailor, wrecked, 
                   The sea was dead grey walls 
                   Superlative in vacancy 
                   Upon which nevertheless at fateful time 
                   Was written 
                   The grim hatred of nature. 

                   From "War is Kind", 1899


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