Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of victory,
As he, defeated, dying
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear.
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