Author Albert Wendt The Stars are old, that stood for me — The West a little worn — Yet newer glows the only Gold I ever cared to earn — Presuming on that lone result Her infinite disdain But vanquished her with my defeat 'Twas Victory was slain. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments