Classic Poem

Unconquered

I HAVE fallen once, I have fallen thrice,
And my wounds are sad to see;
Yet, brothers of mine, take these for sign
That I fought courageously.

If my comrades found it an easy thing
To pass where I suffered sore,
Shall they hold me then to the scorn of men
That I struggled and strove the more?

Forever God giveth his chosen wings,
Yet the goal is set for all,
And swift and high may the winged fly
Where the earth-bound needs must crawl.

And my wounds, my bleeding, my strife, my tears
Shall cry of my victory,
For they prove each one that I did not shun
The path that the weaklings flee.English