Finis Coronat Opus

In western isle across the sea, Where men from shadow long were free, There dwelled a young adventurer fair Whose line was noble, but whose care Was ever for the rolling waves And sailing into break of day. Fair ships he built, as never seen Before his time; and evergreen He planted o’er the island vales, That generations hence might sail In frigates made from timber strong, To seek the lands names oft in song. Upon the isle, a maiden lived Within the vales, like treasure hid, Who loved the woods and all that grew, And how leaves sprung each year anew; She cared not for the ocean’s song And said ‘twould weary her ‘ere long. The maiden and the youth would wed, He’d place a crown upon her head And seek to grant her every wish, Yet one thing she’d not bear; ’twas this: That trees be felled for mast and stern, And ships go out that not return. So as the years passed, hearts grew sad, For love of forests both they had; But one loved what the timber made, The other, woods, as tall they staye...

  A candle in a window stands, And through the panes it glows As early darkness shrouds the land That slumbers ‘neath the snow. The single flame so feeble seems Against the dark of night, Its golden shimmer, sparkling keen Within a drape of white. Yet, flame untouched by wind and chill Still beckons warmly, “Come, And warm yourself, and feast your fill ’Til winter’s past and gone!”

An icy wind Begins to blow ‘mid mountains tall, And soon shall with it snowflakes fall, Upon a well-worn stoop to thaw. An icy wind From furthest north, from tundra drear, Howls ceaselessly for all to hear As by the hearth they gather near. An icy wind With frost and chill the winter brings; Yet, in the houses, people sing, “Joy to the world!”, “Hail to the King!”