One by one, we march. We march
Our branches tired. Our leaves are wearied
One by one, we struggle on
Each breath of wind, each gust of saints reminds us of our daily grace
"March on. March on," the blue birds call
For our brethren gayly fall
"March on. March on," hawks screech with awe
One by one, we shed the tear
Our limbs are cold. Our children hurried.
Each drop of rain, each milk of gods reminds us of our time to face
"March on. March on," the mother sings
For wisteria paths sweetly swing
"March on. March on," the bells do ring
One by one, we die in peace
Our lives are short. Our colors burried.
One by one, we march. We march
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March of the Flowers
PoetryOne by one, we march. We march. Our branches tired. Our leaves are wearied. March of the Flowers is a collection of poetry