My Triumph lasted till the Drums Had left the Dead alone And then I dropped my Victory And chastened stole along To where the finished Faces Conclusion turned on me And then I hated Glory And wished myself were They.
What is to be is best descried When it has also been -- Could Prospect taste of Retrospect The tyrannies of Men Were Tenderer -- diviner The Transitive toward. A Bayonet's contrition Is nothing to the Dead.
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