By Annie Weir Young
Keep step in the march of life.
One halt will queer the line,
On with the struggle and strife.
No laurels are won by repine.
This life is a battlefield wild,
We must be to our standard true.
‘Tis no work for a weary child,
We must fight — both me and you.
‘Tis onward each soul in step,
O’er morass of woe and despair,
Without the faintest regret
For the land that seemed so fair.
Keep step in the march to-day,
For this day is a golden time,
And time is a flashing ray
With eternity in chime.
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