Supremacy

 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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