Ah Poverties, Wincings, and Sulky Retreats

AH poverties, wincings, and sulky retreats!

Ah you foes that in conflict have overcome me!

(For what is my life, or any man's life, but a conflict with foes—the old, the incessant war?)

You degradations—you tussle with passions and appe-titesappetites;

You smarts from dissatisfied friendships, (ah wounds, the sharpest of all;)

You toil of painful and choked articulations—you mean-nessesmeannesses;

You shallow tongue-talks at tables, (my tongue the shallowest of any;)

You broken resolutions, you racking angers, you smoth-er'dsmother'd ennuis;

Ah, think not you finally triumph—My real self has yet to come forth;

It shall yet march forth o'ermastering, till all lies be-neathbeneath me;

It shall yet stand up the soldier of unquestion'd victory.