Ah Poverties, Wincings Sulky Retreats

AH poverties, wincings, and sulky retreats!
Ah you foes that in conflict have overcome me!
(For what is my life, or any man's life, but a conflict with foes—
the old, the incessant war?)
You degradations—you tussle with passions and appetites;
You smarts from dissatisfied friendships, (ah wounds, the sharpest of
all
You toil of painful and choked articulations—you meannesses;
You shallow tongue-talks at tables, (my tongue the shallowest of
any
You broken resolutions, you racking angers, you smother'd ennuis;
Ah, think not you finally triumph—My real self has yet to come
forth;
It shall yet march forth o'ermastering, till all lies beneath me;


It shall yet stand up the soldier of unquestion'd victory.

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