Finis Coronat Opus

Hot and still, the clinging air Hangs heavy ‘neath the summer sun, And only bravest souls do dare To leave the cooler shades of home. But hark! there stirs a fresh’ning breath, And through the browning leaves aloft, Through branches tall, near swallow’s nest, “Soon autumn comes!”, there whispers soft. The oak and maple bend and sway And carry forth the cheering sound Of wind and rustling leaves so gay, That promise hence new season’s bound.

Upon a fair and quiet sea, ‘Neath skies of clearest blue, There sails a vessel, flying free, Adventures to pursue. While ship upon the water rolls, And canvas flies aloft, The captain brave consults below  His map and compass oft. This compass, legend long has told, Guides through the paths of night, To bring the bearer from of old To otherworldly light. For, hidden from all mortal eyes But those whose hearts are true, Within the compass dwells a sprite, And magic he imbues; So when the captain glances down To chart a better course, His way is counseled, unbeknown, By ancient faery force. This pixie long has twirled and spun The needle ‘round the face, And danced his dervish ‘neath the sun  And stars, where’er he’s placed. Some may the compass fear, and cry “Tis haunted!”, but not so; For where the bearer’s heart does lie,  There shall the faery go.

Far above the azure sphere, That spins and turns each passing year, There dances through the clouds and mist, A spirit lively, filled with bliss. Spinning, flying to and fro, Without a care her step to slow, She brings the storms o’er sea and land, And pulls the waves to flood the sand. Her dervish lively spins the clouds, And ships toss gay, from stern to bow, As spouts of water from the sea Reach up to dance with spirit free. And when the clouds their rain have spent, A breeze she weaves, and flits within, And brings it on the coastline rills, And to the mountains, rivers, hills. From ages old, this dance begun, And carried by this fairy on, In ages yet to come, shall be Recalled by breezes through the trees.

Across the field of battle, dim, Encamps the enemy, fearsome, bold, That, set upon destruction grim, Now fights the last of kingdoms old, And fells them to the ground. The meager force, with fires few, And wounded numbering more than well, Await the dawn, with honor true, To face the slaughter fierce of hell And rest with forbears great. But rises up a humble knight Amid the weary soldiers, who Prepare to war and battle fight, And fall, and sleep beneath the dew; This fate must not now pass. And forth the lowly knight does go, Across the foggy field of death, To pledge alone his mortal soul In combat, to the final breath, That free his people go. At daybreak, as across the plain The sunlight casts fair rays of gold, There sounds the trumpets’ dread refrain To signal that a soldier bold Shall fight to win the day. The clash of steel upon the ears Of armies fair and foul alike Bring to the staunchest eye a tear; And stand to arms all men in sight To honor swordsman bold. The day creeps o...