HE is the discard of the pack; He wonders, as he's tossed aside, What miss was his, what sorry lack, In what he erred, for whom he died? The two and fifty, comrades good, He loved; he yearned to play the game; The rules he thought he understood, -- Chances for glory or for shame. And so, high-heartedly he leapt Into the maze of queens and kings; In careless-wise, the Great Adept His soul into a corner flings. See, the once merry knave lies low, Puzzled, he broods his fortune black; This one thing only can he know: He is the discard of the pack. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VIRGILS GNAT: DEDICATORY SONNET by EDMUND SPENSER SONGS OF TRAVEL: 16 by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON CALMNESS OF THE SUBLIME by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY ON FILE by JOHN KENDRICK BANGS BROADWAY IN THE OZARKS: NIGHT by BETTY CORBETT BASSETT CAELIA: SONNETS: 13 by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |