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LXV [Once, I knew a fine song] by Stephen Crane

1.
I lost track of time. Suddenly the hours are so short. Daylight is coming and I’ve yet to pack my bags. I tried to go out and walk around, as a tourist should, I suppose, but I only ended back in my room to write and think. But that’s exactly why I think you’re here, K. told me yesterday. When you said you were writing, I thought, take all the time you need.

2.
Went down to the hotel lobby at one in the morning to send off my postcards. My letters no longer say, “I wish you were here.” Instead it is this: “This is what I’m doing…fortifying my spirit.” It is: “Ten years later, and here I am.”

3.
We’re going to a place by the sea later. I cannot wait.

LXV [Once, I knew a fine song]
Stephen Crane

Once, I knew a fine song,
—It is true, believe me,—
It was all of birds,
And I held them in a basket;
When I opened the wicket,
Heavens! They all flew away.
I cried, “Come back, little thoughts!”
But they only laughed.
They flew on
Until they were as sand
Thrown between me and the sky.

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