Stephen Crane






A lad and a maid at a curve in the stream 
And a shine of soft silken waters
Where the moon-beams fall through a hemlock's boughs
   Oh, night dismal, night glorious.

A lad and a maid at the rail of a bridge
With two shadows adrift on the water
And the wind sings low in the grass on the shore.
   Oh, night dismal, night glorious.

A lad and a maid in a canoe,
And a paddle making silver turmoil.