Leaves of Grass

To Those Who’ve Fail’d

  To those who’ve fail’d, in aspiration vast,
  To unnam’d soldiers fallen in front on the lead,
  To calm, devoted engineers—to over-ardent travelers—to pilots on
      their ships,
  To many a lofty song and picture without recognition—I’d rear
      laurel-cover’d monument,
  High, high above the rest—To all cut off before their time,
  Possess’d by some strange spirit of fire,
  Quench’d by an early death.