Finis Coronat Opus

Ring in the year anew! For many things have come to pass O’er twelvemonth span and season last; Remember what is true. Ring in the year anew! Forge newer paths that stem from old To seek raw treasure, jewels, gold, To match the rainbow’s hue. Ring in the year anew! Build castles lofty, grand and tall;  Cast down your fear of evil’s thrall, And ancient curse undo. Ring in the year anew! Fear not at Time’s slow passage hence, For we have journeys far to wend, ‘Ere Earth we bid adieu.

I pause on pathway stretching on To glance at where my feet have gone In span so brief of but a year, Yet Providence has led me here. Through changing tides and broken hearts, From hes’tant speech and timid start, To bolder tongue and planted tread This guiding Hand has turned my head. And now, ahead does stretch my way; I cannot wander far astray: For roads ahead are paved by He Whose servant I shall ever be.

I onward gaze to path untrod, My past lies just behind; A shaded force, a heavy clog, That dogs my waking mind. My thoughts must rise to brighter loft, Where sunlit gleam abides, And speeds my feet to meadows soft Where I my head may lie. My journey onward beckons hence Like mantled herald old; Forth I must go, for Time has since Full rendered my will bold.

An arrow poisoned, shot from bow ‘Mid yonder angry, threat'ning foe, Swift flies toward soldiers pressing on To lands beyond the setting sun. A cry of warning rises forth, And men at arms their shields throw o’er The lad at whom the arrow’s aim Would cause to fall, dead to remain. So press they on, to gain the ground, As darts of hatred fall around And cover greenest grass below With venom black as heart of foe. Take heart, young soldier; rally, here, And seize the ground while friends are near! Such shafts must burn at end of day;  For dust, and shadow’s ash, are they.

O’er yon grey hills of heather dreary I cast my eyes, from waking weary, Glancing swift o’er grizzled plain To seek a refuge from the rain. So long my feet have traveled over Hard paths of stone and fields of clover, Trails where steep has been the climb; Thus has been this journey, mine. But yonder rises from the heather A tower silver, gleaming hither: There shall I seek out my rest And lay my head on loving breast. For here my loving knight awaiting Bids stern the hard, road cold not break me;  Hope shall live in love’s embrace, Fear’s thrall holds not affection’s gaze.