by Stephen Crane
"I have heard the sunset song of the birches,
"A white melody in the silence,
"I have seen a quarrel of the pines.
"At nightfall
"The little grasses have rushed by me
"With the wind men.
"These things have I lived," quoth the maniac,
"Possessing only eyes and ears.
"But you—
"You don green spectacles before you look at roses."