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rschmidt7's review against another edition
5.0
Stephen Crane's poetry is unfortunately overshadowed by his far more famous work, The Red Badge of Courage, but this is an injustice, because this is a fine book and Crane himself considered it superior to Red Badge. This volume also contains one of my favorite poems ever:
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."
If you've never read Crane's poetry, I highly recommend you read this.
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."
If you've never read Crane's poetry, I highly recommend you read this.
wishanem's review against another edition
4.0
I was more aware of Stephen Crane as a novelist than as a poet, but his directness and simple prose really shine in this collection. As is usual for me, I liked his short poems more, but unlike most authors of his era (the late 1800's) Crane mostly sticks to shorter poems.
Here are my favorites from this collection, starting with the most famous of his poems, which is what got me to read the rest of them.
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."
X
Should the wide world roll away,
Leaving black terror,
Limitless night,
Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand
Would be to me essential,
If thou and thy white arms were there,
And the fall to doom a long way.
XIII
If there is a witness to my little life,
To my tiny throes and struggles,
He sees a fool;
And it is not fine for gods to menace fools.
XXIII
Places among the stars,
So gardens near the sun,
Keep your distant beauty;
Shed no beams upon my weak heart.
Since she is here
In a place of blackness,
Not your golden days
Nor your silver nights
Can call me to you.
Since she is here
In a place of blackness,
Here I stay and wait.
XXIV
I saw a man pursuing the horizon;
Round and round they sped.
I was disturbed at this;
I accosted the man.
"It is futile," I said,
"You can never"--
"You lie," he cried,
And ran on
XLVII
"Think as I think," said a man,
"Or you are abominably wicked;
"You are a toad."
And after I had thought of it,
I said, "I will, then, be a toad."
XLVIII
Once there was a man,--
Oh, so wise!
In all drink
He detected the bitter,
And in all touch
He found the sting.
At last he cried thus:
"Here is nothing,--
"No life,
"No joy,
"No pain,--
"Here is nothing save opinion,"
"And opinion be damned."
Here are my favorites from this collection, starting with the most famous of his poems, which is what got me to read the rest of them.
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."
X
Should the wide world roll away,
Leaving black terror,
Limitless night,
Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand
Would be to me essential,
If thou and thy white arms were there,
And the fall to doom a long way.
XIII
If there is a witness to my little life,
To my tiny throes and struggles,
He sees a fool;
And it is not fine for gods to menace fools.
XXIII
Places among the stars,
So gardens near the sun,
Keep your distant beauty;
Shed no beams upon my weak heart.
Since she is here
In a place of blackness,
Not your golden days
Nor your silver nights
Can call me to you.
Since she is here
In a place of blackness,
Here I stay and wait.
XXIV
I saw a man pursuing the horizon;
Round and round they sped.
I was disturbed at this;
I accosted the man.
"It is futile," I said,
"You can never"--
"You lie," he cried,
And ran on
XLVII
"Think as I think," said a man,
"Or you are abominably wicked;
"You are a toad."
And after I had thought of it,
I said, "I will, then, be a toad."
XLVIII
Once there was a man,--
Oh, so wise!
In all drink
He detected the bitter,
And in all touch
He found the sting.
At last he cried thus:
"Here is nothing,--
"No life,
"No joy,
"No pain,--
"Here is nothing save opinion,"
"And opinion be damned."
bartlebybleaney's review against another edition
4.0
Brilliant work in the short line. Crane feels somewhere between myth and pure image.
caninesapien's review against another edition
4.0
Dark and rich free verse. I didn't love every poem but it was mostly excellent. I'll read this again soon.
schmidtmark56's review against another edition
5.0
Easily one of the best collections of poetry I've ever come across. I may be partial though, as this almost single-handedly converted me to a love of poetry. His modernist organization (no rhyming) paired with incendiary ideas and pithy narratives created poems I just inhaled and still re-read to this day.
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