Finis Coronat Opus

Fill the ranks, you people bold; Your forbears dear are growing old, And pass they now from marching file As Time spins e’er his ceaseless dial. Fill the ranks, and let them not Grow sparse and empty, plagued by rot Of witless cowards from the foe Who seek our mettle to dethrone. Fill the ranks with brave and true And honest ones with light imbued, Who, though they falter in the march, Still press they on, with fervent heart. Fill the ranks, and name the dead, And go you forward in their stead, That lands they sought long to defend Continue on, ’til bitter end.

Watchmen, to the walls! Set guard upon the towers great That left to rot have been of late, And wakeful eye cast o’er below, That none unheeded go. Watchmen, to the walls! For labors great your forbears wrought, And mighty tyrants long they fought To raise a nation strong and free In peace and liberty. Watchmen, to the walls! This gift of old much treasured is, And enemies, with Judas’ kiss, Would seek to steal, disturb, destroy, Our freedoms we enjoy. Watchmen, to the walls! Let sleep forsake your keenest sight And let your lanterns burn forth bright; Let nations know that guarded are Our lands beneath the stars. Watchmen, to the walls! And welcome those who freedom seek, Who long for law and liberty, And honor well the cost to win The life enjoyed within. Watchmen, to the walls! And children hence your names shall know As heroes, braving wind and snow, Protecting, guarding endlessly, That peaceful, they should sleep.

A nation great, ‘neath western sun That, long ago, its freedom won, And built anew on precepts old And fashioned in their forbears’ mold, From nascence humble, on the shore Of lands unknown, ne’er seen before, To cities raised from wetland deep Wherein great treasures they would keep; This nation grew, by stalwart hearts, By noble minds and fairest arts, By mem’ries of their fathers’ deeds And sacrifices to be free. But not from hearts of men so bold, Nor justices, nor laws of old, Do people have their liberty; That is a gift of God, and free. And so did know those folk who braved The voyage great, the tyrant’s blade, And fought for people yet to come Within this nation ‘neath the sun.

Upon the earth, o’er ages long, There things of grandeur stand That awed a hundred thousand throngs From far and distant lands: Fair temples hewn from marble stone Upon the city heights, Bright pillars shining purest gold And gleaming in the light; Grand murals painted over years Bedecking ancient halls And telling of past hopes and fears, Of kingdoms, soldiers, thralls; Yet greatest wonders all begin With smallest stroke of brush, With chisel placed, with breath drawn in, Within enchanted hush.

When through a veil of pain I gaze Upon the swiftly passing days Wherein the sunlit beauty shines, And brightens all it leaves behind; When nature glorious summons forth Fair breeze from south, chill wind from north, And calls to keenly feel within Their freezing blast, or kiss on skin; When seasons pass with wondrous sights, With colors blinding in the light  Of setting sun or broad midday, And call to cast all cares away; These lovely things I see as one Behind a curtain, gazing from A place apart, when fain would I In midst of all this beauty lie. But eyes I have, and senses keen, And love for tales of wonders seen, And so, until the pain shall fade, I watch and listen from its shade.

  The people yearn for tales of hope, For legends ancient told Of lives beyond a shadow’s yoke,   Of valiant deeds and bold. Tell eager ears the stories great  Of kings and knights so true, Who dragons met, and fought to slay ‘Neath daylit skies of blue. And what of lays both sad and fair? They, too, must oft be sung; For hearts must mourn ‘neath heavy air, And feel while they are young. Proclaim the tales of heralds past, Surviving cent’ries gone, That those who hear them now, at last, Can see from whence they come.