Ah Poverties, Wincings Sulky Retreats

Walt Whitman

   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 meannesses;
   You shallow tongue-talks at tables, (my tongue the shallowest of
         any;)
   You broken resolutions, you racking angers, you smother'd ennuis;
   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;  10
   It shall yet stand up the soldier of unquestion'd victory.

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