639 <br /> <br />My Portion is Defeat—today— <br />A paler luck than Victory— <br />Less Paeans—fewer Bells— <br />The Drums don't follow Me—with tunes— <br />Defeat—a somewhat slower—means— <br />More Arduous than Balls— <br /> <br />'Tis populous with Bone and stain— <br />And Men too straight to stoop again—, <br />And Piles of solid Moan— <br />And Chips of Blank—in Boyish Eyes— <br />And scraps of Prayer— <br />And Death's surprise, <br />Stamped visible—in Stone— <br /> <br />There's somewhat prouder, over there— <br />The Trumpets tell it to the Air— <br />How different Victory <br />To Him who has it—and the One <br />Who to have had it, would have been <br />Contender—to die—<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-portion-is-defeat-today/
