Walt Whitman

Leaves of Grass. 34. Sands at Seventy. 4. 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.