Finis Coronat Opus

Behind yon’ dark and shaded ridge That hides horizon’s edge, There skies shine forth fair colors gay,  As daylight fades away. Light shades of rose, and rust, and gold, Shot through with em’rald bold All shine as one, as one they fade Behind the ridge of grey. And grim rock face, though stern may be, Leaves half the sky unseen; But ‘gainst the dark of shade and stone, Fair still the hues are shown. So plain may seem the hillcrest black And vivid color lack; But fairer sets the sun thus so, To sink in prism’s glow. Photo taken of the coast from the Santa Monica Pier, California

Bright sun rays stream across my face As morning fair begins to break; No sleeper can remain thus so Beneath the brilliant, golden glow. A finch on yonder window-pane With whistle clear, sings his refrain, And bids me rise and meet the morn Which one hour since had not been born. Now rise will I, embrace the day, No more in slumber’s hold I’ll lay; For daylight beckons me abroad, To gaze upon the works of God.

As raven flies high above rust-tinted plain And fervently searches for morsel of grain, The sun, climbing high in the clear desert sky Sends rays upon desolate earth, hot and dry. No grain shall be found there upon scorch-ed earth, No ploughman would ever earn bread by his work; For water is scarce, and the rain falleth not Where sky clear remains over dusty fields hot. Yet through this strange valley of verdure bereft There, through the earth rocky, appears a small cleft! For life-giving water can ne’er be denied  Its course it pursueth, to join with the tide. So press on, dear trav’ler, though desert you face; Let not desolation your courage efface, Nor scorching temptation then hinder your task, But rather press on to the ocean at last.

Amid the flow so swift and dark Of Time’s course onward, to the end I stand, and turn a moment; hark! The thund’ring roar a chaos lends. Another year is past and gone;  Such actions made, and minds inclined, And much is come to pass, tis done. Why then doth yet my heart repine? The swirl of days, and years, and lives Swells great around me as I stay; How quickly pass the ages! Nigh To me, then, seems the end of days. Then forward turns my face again, I onward gaze toward river’s cusp; O’er yonder rift there go no men Who turn and long for past years’ dust.