There came whisperings in the winds:
“Good-bye! Good-bye!”
Little voices called in the darkness:
“Good-bye! Good-bye!”
Then I stretched forth my arms.
“No — no — ”
There came whisperings in the wind
“Good-bye! Good-bye!”
Little voices called in the darkness:
“Good-bye! Good-bye!”
I think that Crane is talking about his father how he didn’t want him to die but there was nothing that he could do.
Bowery Poetry Center NYC Sunday 11/6/2005
3:00pm Second Annual Stephen Crane Festival of the Short Poem. $5 Join us in celebrating what is distinctive about the short poem – its brevitas. Loosely defined as longer than a haiku and shorter than a sonnet, the best short poems can — in performance — be apprehended as a single thought, and — on the page — communicate their meaning visually as well as verbally. The way a short poem is lined out on a page, its form, can be understood simultaneously with its meaning in a single moment or epiphany. A beautiful, short poem can almost be held in ones hand, inspecting it from all sides.
FREAKIN AWESOME POEM!