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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- 
You shallow tongue-talks at tables, (my tongue the shal- 
 lowest of any;)
You broken resolutions, you racking angers, you smother'd  
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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