Poem: Stephen Crane

In Heaven, some little blades of grass
Stood before God. “What did you do?”
Then all save one of the little blades began eagerly to relate the merits of their lives.
This one stayed a small way behind
Ashamed.
Presently God said: “And what did you do?”
The little blade answered: “Oh, my lord, memory is bitter to me for if I did good deeds
“I know not of them.”
Then God in all His splendor arose from His throne.
“Oh, best little blade of grass,” He said.