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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 appetites;
You smarts from dissatisfied friendships, (ah wounds, the
sharpest of all;)
You toil of painful and choked articulations—you mean-
nesses;
You shallow tongue-talks at tables, (my tongue the shal-
lowest of any;)
You broken resolutions, you racking angers, you smother'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 beneath me;
It shall yet stand up the soldier of unquestion'd victory.

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