There is a drear and lonely tract of hell <br />From all the common gloom removed afar: <br />A flat, sad land it is, where shadows are, <br />Whose lorn estate my verse may never tell. <br />I walked among them and I knew them well: <br />Men I had slandered on life’s little star <br />For churls and sluggards; and I knew the scar <br />Upon their brows of woe ineffable. <br /> <br />But as I went majestic on my way, <br />Into the dark they vanished, one by one, <br />Till, with a shaft of God’s eternal day, <br />The dream of all my glory was undone,— <br />And, with a fool’s importunate dismay, <br />I heard the dead men singing in the sun.<br /><br />Edwin Arlington Robinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/supremacy/
