There walks the winner; triumphant
Shine of sweat on the brow,
Once he almost gave up, now buoyant
Bosom swells solid for the morrow.
There is the loser's bent head,—
Eyes which once sparkled, dropped dead;
Unnoticed, uncared to destiny's glad;
Bosom hunched back and example bad.
Who makes this greatest loss?
The difference between winning and losing,
Is it deciding time's momentary chaos?
Or those long hours found no time moving.
Branded two species; unmatching,
Aah! That even after single hatching.
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