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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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    - Gerard Manley Hopkins As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame; As tumbled over rim in roundy wells Stones ring; like each tucked…

  • Poem: The Starlight Night

    - Gerard Manley Hopkins Look at the stars! look, look up at the skies! O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air! The bright boroughs, the…

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