Behold the grave of a wicked man | Poem by Stephen Crane
Behold, the grave of a wicked man,
And near it, a stern spirit.
There came a drooping maid with violets,
But the spirit grasped her arm.
“No flowers for him,” he said.
The maid wept:
“Ah, I loved him.
But the spirit, grim and frowning:
“No flowers for him.
Now, this is it —
If the spirit was just,
Why did the maid weep?