Stephen Crane






The trees in the garden rained flowers.
Children ran there joyously.
They gathered the flowers
Each to himself.
Now there were some
Who gathered great heaps —
Having opportunity and skill —
Until, behold, only chance blossoms
Remained for the feeble.
Then a little spindling tutor
Ran importantly to the father, crying:
“Pray, come hither!”
“See this unjust thing in your garden!”
But when the father had surveyed,
He admonished the tutor:
“Not so, small sage!
“This thing is just.
“For, look you,
“Are not they who possess the flowers
“Stronger, bolder, shrewder
“That they who have none?”
“Why should the strong —
“The beautiful strong —
“Why should they not have the flowers?”

Upon reflection, the tutor bowed to the ground.
”My Lord,” he said,
“The stars are displaced
“By this towering wisdom.”