But some had
opportunity
to squeal.
Stephen Crane
XXIX
Behold, from the land of the farther suns
I returned.
And I was in a reptile-swarming place,
Peopled, otherwise, with grimaces,
Shrouded above in black impenetrableness.
I shrank, loathing,
Sick with it.
And I said to him,
"What is this? "
He made answer slowly,
"Spirit, this is a world;
"This was your home. "
XXX
Supposing that I should have the courage
To let a red sword of virtue
Plunge into my heart,
Letting to the weeds of the ground
My sinful blood,
What can you offer me?
A gardened castle?
A flowery kingdom?
What? A hope?
Then hence with your red sword of virtue.
XXXI
Many workmen
Built a huge ball of masonry
Upon a mountain-top.
Then they went to the valley below,
And turned to behold their work.
"It is grand," they said;
They loved the thing.
Of a sudden, it moved:
It came upon them swiftly;
It crushed them all to blood.
But some had opportunity to squeal.
XXXII
Two or three angels
Came near to the earth.
They saw a fat church.
Little black streams of people
Came and went in continually.
And the angels were puzzled
To know why the people went thus,
And why they stayed so long within.
XXXIII
There was one I met upon the road
Who looked at me with kind eyes.
He said, "Show me of your wares. "
And this I did,
Holding forth one.
He said, "It is a sin. "
Then held I forth another;
He said, "It is a sin. "
Then held I forth another;
He said, "It is a sin. "
And so to the end;
Always he said, "It is a sin. "
And, finally, I cried out,
"But I have none other. "
Then did he look at me
With kinder eyes.
"Poor soul! " he said.
