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Leaves of Grass (1871-72)
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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?)
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You degradations—you tussle with passions and appe-
tites;
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You smarts from dissatisfied friendships, (ah wounds,
the sharpest of all;)
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You toil of painful and choked articulations—you mean-
nesses;
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You shallow tongue-talks at tables, (my tongue the
shallowest of any;)
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You broken resolutions, you racking angers, you smoth-
er'd ennuis;
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Ah, think not you finally triumph—My real self has yet
to come forth;
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It shall yet march forth o'ermastering, till all lies be-
neath me;
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It shall yet stand up the soldier of unquestion'd victory. |
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