Finis Coronat Opus

Among the frigid, icy hills, Past frozen falls and crystal rills, In cavern hidden from the eye Of any trav’ler passing by, There, kept behind dark walls of earth, In mind of artist springs new birth. Surrounded by rich colors gay, Ensconced in gilded curtains, framed In ebony and sandalwood Behold! fair works that long have stood, And guarded now, lie ‘neath the stone Protected in their safest home. The artist dwells among his dreams, And paints with zeal such beauteous things; As blizzard cries and sends its snow And in the mountains no man goes, Yet painter’s mind springs lively forth, Creating treasures of great worth. In future days, when Time is old, Forgotten tales no minds now hold, And weary is the mortal race, Meand’ring on from place to place, The artist’s tales in color stay And teach to hope for noble days.

Far north, upon uncharted waves Where lands unpeopled lie, And freezing winds chill sunlight’s rays And blizzards fill the skies; There, o’er the treacherous fields of ice, March desperate in the snow A host, unceasing day or night, To eastward slowly go. Against a foe most foul they swore, Who stole a birthright fair, That though this evil shame they bore, Yet great would be their heirs. Upon the grinding ice they press And struggle on, though long And perilous the path lies; yes, And weak does grow the strong. The lays and lore tell of the line That braved the northern lands; Through cent’ries long, their heirs did rise, And legends from their hands.

A weary captain sits alone, His fellows mirthful feast, and home They wend their steps at break of day, For long has been their time away; But gazing into firelight warm, There, stony, is their leader, worn. Of noble house and old was he, E’er ill befell the peoples free And drove them thence, to live in thrall Of lowest men and shadows all, Until, at last, his way was made To seek his solace far away. A name he made, as years did pass, And honor brought his house; at last A Sword against the evil rose To vanquish many mortal foes, And men did flock to pledge their arms, Who to the Shadow brought much harm. But though great deeds this man had done, And proved himself his father’s son, Yet dark became his quiet heart; For long ago, the painful dart Of loss and weariness had pierced His soul, and made his vengeance fierce. So by himself his doom he bears, Through lore of kingdoms, tales of years, And great his name is ever known As darkness deep is overthrown; Though sad and troubled he ...

The darkest days of winter, long And cold, behind us lie, And slowly rises golden sun, The earth to lift from night. While chill and icy winds do blow, And leafless trees stand bare, Yet, ‘neath the sunlight’s yellow glow The dreariness looks fair. And soon, once snowy blast is gone, When ice no more can be, The Spring shall dance ’til day is done, Bedecked in joyous glee.