The Battle For Success

I have not won the fight as yet,

No, not by a longshot, I’ve not.

I’m still fighting, with the odds against me,

But, by the blood of my fathers,

I’m still on the firing line.

Night comes on, and I am so weary

That even the trenches look inviting.

At times I am cold and hungry,

And the sleet cuts my face.

I stagger on, from pillar to post,

I rub my body from endless bruises

And quench my thirst from the muddy pool.

Oftentimes I run short of ammunition,

And then I fear the worst.

But a night’s sleep does me good;

I awaken and take a fresh hold.

The morning sun cheers me,

And I get into step with the multitude.

No, the fight is not won,

But youth and health are mine,

And, God willing, I will have reached the goal

Ere the setting of the sun!

Feb. 5, 1914