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Poetry: Failure

We are much bound to them that do succeed;
But, in a more pathetic sense, are bound
To such as fail. They all our loss expound;
They comfort us for work that will not speed,
And life--itself a failure. Aye, his deed,
Sweetest in story, who the dusk profound
Of Hades flooded with entrancing sound,
Music's own tears, was failure. Doth it read
Therefore the worse? Ah no! So much to dare,
He fronts the regnant Darkness on its throne.--
So much to do; impetuous even there,
He pours out love's disconsolate sweet moan--
He wins; but few for that his deed recall;
Its power is in the look which costs him all.

- Jean Ingelow
Indexing:

Posts from This Journal by “poetry” Tag

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  • Poetry: Lucifer In Starlight

    On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose. Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend Above the rolling ball in cloud part screened, Where sinners…

Basically, everyone remembers a fail over a win. Isn't that the truth?