November Poem--Edward Arlington Robinson--Supremacy

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Supremacy
Edward Arlington Robinson


There is a drear and lonely tract of hell
From 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 star
For churls and sluggards; and I knew the scar
Upon 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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This page contains a single entry by Steven Riddle published on November 8, 2003 7:05 AM.

Morning Offering and Praise Report was the previous entry in this blog.

Evening Examen--Rest in God is the next entry in this blog.

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