SUCCESS is counted sweetest
By those who ne’er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of victory,
As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear.
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Chicago: Emily Dickinson, "I.," Poems Original Sources, accessed July 18, 2025, http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=4BN74MBUVKZR6EL.
MLA: Dickinson, Emily. "I." Poems, Original Sources. 18 Jul. 2025. http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=4BN74MBUVKZR6EL.
Harvard: Dickinson, E, 'I.' in Poems. Original Sources, retrieved 18 July 2025, from http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=4BN74MBUVKZR6EL.