I lay a tattered flag before your feet In sign of conquest. Conquerors are proud Of a rent flag: each mouth that cries aloud Cries of a battle now twice won; defeat Gives up the right to every victory. It is my life: I bring it torn and stained Out of the battles I have lost and gained; Once captured, won back from the enemy At a great loss; yet, here I hold it still, My own, to render up as now I do; I render it up joyfully to you, Choosing defeat: do with it as you will. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AMORETTI: 64 by EDMUND SPENSER WINTERTIME by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON EUMARES by ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS THE LITTLE OLD WOMEN by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 13 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |