Ah, me! the vision has vanished— The music has died away! - William Wetmore Story

They only the victory win,
Who have fought the good fight, and have vanquished the demon that tempts us within;
Who have held to their faith unseduced by the prize that the world holds on high;
Who have dared for a high cause to suffer, resist, fight,—if need be, to die.

I sing the hymn of the conquered, who fell in the battle of life,—
The hymn of the wounded, the beaten, who died overwhelmed in the strife;
Not the jubilant song of the victors, for whom the resounding acclaim
Of nations was lifted in chorus, whose brows wore the chaplet of fame,
But the hymn of the low and the humble, the weary, the broken in heart,
Who strove and who failed, acting bravely a silent and desperate part.

But the gray and the cold are haunted
By a beauty akin to pain,—
By the sense of a something wanted,
That will never come again.