Here you will find the Poem Ancestry of poet Stephen Maria Crane
ONCE I saw mountains angry, And ranged in battle-front. Against them stood a little man; Ay, he was no bigger than my finger. I laughed, and spoke to one near me, ?Will he prevail?? ?Surely,? replied this other; ?His grandfathers beat them many times.? Then did I see much virtue in grandfathers,? At least, for the little man Who stood against the mountains.
