The wayfarer,
Perceiving the pathway to truth,
Was struck with astonishment.
It was thickly grown with weeds.
"Ha," he said,
"I see that none has passed here
In a long time."
Later he saw that each weed
Was a singular knife.
"Well," he mumbled at last,
"Doubtless there are other roads."
More verses by Stephen Crane
- Blustering God,
- A Slant Of Sun On Dull Brown Walls
- A Learned Man Came To Me Once
- I Walked In A Desert
- Upon The Road Of My Life,