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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: IPPOLIT KONOVALOFF by EDGAR LEE MASTERS PRELUDE; FOR GEOFFREY GORER by EDITH SITWELL SONNET: OF THREE GIRLS AND OF THEIR TALK by GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO OFF THE GROUND by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DAISY FRASER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS AT HOME IN HEAVEN by JAMES MONTGOMERY AN ANGLER'S WISH by HENRY VAN DYKE |