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Arthur Symons - The Flag
Work rating: Low

I lay a tattered flag before your feet 
In sign of conquest. Conquerors ate proud 
Of a rent flag: each mouth that cries aloud 
Cries of a battle now twice won; defeat 
Gives up the right to every victory. 
It is my life: I bring it torn and Stained 
Out of the battles I have lost and gained; 
Once captured, won back from the enemy 
At a great loss; yet, here I hold it Still, 
My own, to render up as now I do; 
I render it up joyfully to you, 
Choosing defeat: do with it as you will.
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