Each small gleam was a voice by Stephen Crane

In little songs of carmine, violet, green, gold.
A chorus of colours came over the water;
The wondrous leaf-shadow no longer wavered,
No pines crooned on the hills,
The blue night was elsewhere a silence,
When the chorus of colours came over the water,
Little songs of carmine, violet, green, gold.

Small glowing pebbles
Thrown on the dark plane of evening
Sing good ballads of God
And eternity, with soul's rest.
Little priests, little holy fathers,
None can doubt the truth of your hymning,
When the marvellous chorus comes over the water,
Songs of carmine, violet, green, gold.

by Stephen Crane

Other poems by 'Stephen Crane'

Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind

In heaven

A man said to the universe:

In a lonely place

Yes, I have a thousand tongues

Once there came a man

Three little birds in a row

Love walked alone

God lay dead in heaven

I looked here