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I
SUCCESS is counted sweetestBy those who ne’er succeed.To comprehend a nectarRequires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple hostWho took the flag to-dayCan tell the definition,So clear, of victory,
As he, defeated, dying,On whose forbidden earThe distant strains of triumphBreak, agonized and clear.
II
OUR share of night to bear,Our share of morning,Our blank in bliss to fill,Our blank in scorning.
Here a star, and there a star,Some lose their way.Here a mist, and there a mist,Afterwards—day!
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