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.
More verses by Stephen Crane
- Many Red Devils Ran From My Heart
- When The Prophet, A Complacent Fat Man
- Intrigue
- I Stood Upon A High Place
- Little Birds Of The Night