Supremacy
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here is a drear and lonely tract of hellFrom all the common gloom removed afar:A flat, sad land it is, where shadows are,Whose lorn estate my verse may never tell.I walked among them and I knew them well:Men I had slandered on life's little starFor churls and sluggards; and I knew the scarUpon their brows of woe ineffable. But as I went majestic on my way,Into the dark they vanished, one by one,Till, with a shaft of God's eternal day,The dream of all my glory was undone, --And, with a fool's importunate dismay,I heard the dead men singing in the sun.
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