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.
More verses by Stephen Crane
- When The Prophet, A Complacent Fat Man
- Intrigue
- I Stood Upon A High Place
- Little Birds Of The Night
- I Explain