by Arlo Bates
Count not the trampled dead spared any strain
Because another won where was slain
Are hearts ignoble proved whose cause is lost?
Vain is the standard if success hide cost.
Lost is not failure; not success is gain;
Idle as measure are both bliss and pain.
Who falters, fails, although he cluth the prize;
Who proves his utmost, wins, though dead he dies.
Last updated May 13, 2023