In the old time,
Listening to the chime
Of the melodious world,
Before despair
Darkened the air,
And woe his flag unfurled.

In the old days,
When life was crowned with bays,
And pleasure's glass went round,
Or we thought it did,
Not heeding what was hid,
In the sweets profound. —

In the Future's hand,
In the promised land,
Fair hopes are building
Palaces and towers,
And gay reception-hours,
Bright with beauty's gilding!

In the coming dream,
How glitters every stream,
Singing a low song
Down the clove of the mountain,
And sparkling in the fountain,
The shady valleys among.

But better is To-day!
Than all the fine things say,
To-day! is a dusty hero rough,
And his muscles are firm,
And his heavy arm,
Is both fit to strike and tough.

He has no couch of pleasure,
But war's sternest measure,
Is that he best shall know;
He is a bold man,
And the chief of a bold clan,
No bolder or stronger rules below.

He would not be dashed,
If his sparing armor clashed
With the rapier of a ghost,
And his hearty cheer,
A battle may safely dare,
Even with a mighty host.

Then let us all be bold,
And grow not ever old,
But strike through thick and thin,
And conquer if we can,
And if not support the man,
With at least brave hope to win.