Two Poems by Stephen Crane

 In the desert
 I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
 Who, squatting upon the ground,
 Held his heart in his hands
 And ate of it.
 I said, “Is it good, friend?”
 “It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;
 “But I like it
 Because it is bitter,
 And because it is my heart.” 
 I walked in a desert
 And I cried,
 “Ah, God, take me from this place!”
 A voice said, “It is no desert.”
 I cried, “Well, but—
 The sand, the heat, the vacant horizon.”
 A voice said, “It is no desert.” 

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