I met a seer | Poem by Stephen Crane
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I met a seer.
He held in his hands
The book of wisdom.
“Sir,” I addressed him,
“Let me read.
“
“Child — ” he began.
“Sir,” I said,
“Think not that I am a child,
For already I know much
Of that which you hold.
Aye, much.
“
He smiled.
Then he opened the book
And held it before me.
—
Strange that I should have grown so suddenly blind.
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Stephen Crane – Poet | Academy of American Poets
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