Finis Coronat Opus

Alone, I gaze on sunset gold, Mind straying deep to thoughts of old  Which long have hid beneath the face Of pressing forth in life’s hard race. “What dreams may come”, as quoth the bard; Alas, how sad when dreams there are But there, within the mind must stay That vision of a better day.   And so, alone, I contemplate, While sets the sun at end of day; How long must vision bide his time, ‘Ere simple men their purpose find?

‘Ere break of dawn, O’er field of battle, veil’d in mist, Lay strewn the hosts of warring lists That fell by setting sun. ‘Ere break of dawn, A lone soul wanders ‘mid the clouds Of smoke and dust, with head low bowed As comrades brave he sees. ‘Ere break of dawn,  A quiet gloom is settled o’er The killing fields of brutal war As long the fallen sleep.

I tread upon a darkened path: Confusion’s shade and fog of wrath Cloud so the way, my eyes do fail To ascertain the narrow trail. Tread follows tread as on I go, Through brambles sharp along the road; And voices soft but threat’ning speak To call aside my weary feet. But press I on, through murky way.  I must soon see the light of day; For darkness lingers but a time ‘Ere it dispels in gold sun’s shine.

Afar, o’er yonder sea of sand, Where sun beats down upon the land, A well-worn path through arid lay To mountains dark doth wend its way. For ages long, the path was trod, By iron steps of horse steel shod, And beaten hard, and ‘neath the sun Baked firm, as onward years did run. Along the road so bare and dry The bones of wayward wand’rers lie; Their feet did fail, their heart grew weak, And on the way they fell asleep. O trav’ler weary, lift your head! No longer lie among the dead, But press you on, ’til path will lead To cooler spring ‘neath mountain peak.