Explore "Good was the Fight" by Gilbert Parker on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
How have I toiled, how have I set my face / Fair to the swords! No man could say I quailed; / Ne'er did I falter; I dare not to have failed, / I dare not to have dropped from out the race.
Good was the fight -- good, till a piteous dream / Crept from some direful covert of despair; / Showed me your look, that look so true and fair, / Distant and bleak; for me no more to gleam.
Then was I driven back upon my soul, / Then came dark moments; lady, then I drew / Forth from its place the round unfathomed bowl
Of sorrow, and from it I quaffed to you; / Speaking as men speak who have lost / Their hearts' last prize -- and dare not count the cost.