Finis Coronat Opus

When darkness falls, who stands and bears A light to pierce the shade, And guide the scattered through the fear To rest in guarded glade? Who shall the spark of hope relight, When hearts are crushed beneath The feet of foes, who take delight  In darkness and fell deeds? And through the night, when evil treads Unfettered by the sun, Who holds aloft a beacon, red And bright, chill souls to warm? For eventide will surely fall, And shadows wield their might; But though they linger long, their thrall Shall perish in the light.

What people, who with rights endowed, That through the years no king has cowed, Who reap the benefits so blest  That men of yore, in fiery test Have gained for their posterity, That they should know how to be free, And live, and work, and future grasp, Without a fear of tyrants past: What people, then, of trust so great, Then pawns away their children’s fate, And casts aside the truths of old For love of leisure, ease, and gold? Such cowardice no culture keeps, Nor ought a place of honor seek; Forsook they swift their duty, now Their offspring bears the awful blow.

Onward press, into the night As gleaming stars shine forth their light And beckon bold explorers go, To see what wonders are bestowed, But lie unknown to mortal mind, Except the bravest of mankind. Into the darkness press yet on, Though fly you far from golden sun; But starlight clear shall guide the way Where keenest minds discov’ries make, And worlds appear before the eyes Of those who grand adventures prize. And when, at last, you rest at home, Your grandest voyages then done, Speak oft of lands afar, and deeds That spark the minds of youth so keen, And stir a drowsy heart within To boldly go, where none has been.

A force arrayed in shadow dim Lays waste to all it sees, and then Sets sights upon the borders green Of fairest lands that eyes have seen. Beneath the reign of darkest lord, This horde desires ever more To turn oasis, fair and lush, To burning ash, and putrid rust. Against this host of terror gleams An army vast, with weapons keen; Sets firm its view upon its end, That darkness shall not rule again. This war shall rage for ages long, Though oft it seems ’tis waged and won; Yet in the end, ‘mid fear and doubt, The light must cast the shadow out.

What good are storms, if we should fail To learn how to prepare, To shelter seek, and walls make strong That hold, though rain beat long? And what of pain, and battle wounds, And plague upon the youth; Or weary souls, and troubled minds, Should we to these resign? Nay! from a trial, strengthen so A heart in midst of woe, That after time in furnace blaze Your mettle prove the day.

So weary grows the heart of late, Amid the storms and winds of Fate That batter sore the vessel small, And set up siege ‘gainst spirit’s walls. What succor can a soul then seek, When battle leaves it pale and weak, And yearns it so for water cool, Refreshing, by a peaceful pool? Yet fight it must, against the slings Of Fortune, and whate’er she brings, And press yet on in battle fierce, ’Til Hope the shroud of darkness pierce.

Words hang silent in the air, Unspoken by the tongue, but there  Between a thought and sound expressed A question, so uncertain, rests. How many things are felt, not said, And sit in shadows with the dead, Yet live they on, as spectres dumb, Hov’ring where no speech has come?

Rest, when weary thoughts abound And fog the mind with clam’rous sound To drown out dreams of peace and calm That bring the soul a healing balm: Rest, when lonely is the heart, And aimless ‘mid displays of arts That catch the eye and whet the tongue, But leave one stranded, far from home: Rest, when body weary grows, And seeks to mend its pains and woes; Such respite is a mighty aid To heal a soul in Light remade.

The world has changed, and those who lived Before, and mem’ry have Of times gone by and lost, now sit With pensive faces clad. The world has changed, and now there walk Young souls, who know not how  The land had wept, and time had stopped, And pain marked every brow. The world has changed; it matters great, For lives it touches still, And if past deeds grow ever faint, Then honor also will. The world has changed, and on it turns, As ages past have done; But let not generations spurn The mem’ries ‘neath the sun.

Naught stirs the heart to swell with pride, Or bids the coward, “Come and fight, And seize your fortune, e’er the day  Is gone, your hope to speed away”, As words with pointed meaning fierce, And music haunting on the ears. For words a hist’ry ancient tell, Of bravest deeds, of twisted spell; And melodies of old bear still The magic of the trees and rills; So fill they souls with beauty great Through cent’ries long, and kingdoms’ fates.

Who will write the lays and songs, And pen the words proclaimed by throngs, When poets we long loved have passed And through the veil they sleep at last? When sounds and tunes from soulless gears Fall meaningless upon our ears, Where are the spirits deep, who feel, And paint with words in world of steel? When heart is gone from music, fair No more will be such song; for there Is kinship in a lay soft sung In words first felt, seen, ‘neath the sun.

Guard your mind, and make it strong, And feed it well with truth, Lest weak it dwindle down ‘ere long ‘Neath weight of things uncouth. Whole and full of life should be The minds and thoughts of men, That firm and stalwart, bold and free, They live among their kin. When frail and full of lies become Their hearts and deeds, then wait And watch, for from such never sprung Fair thoughts nor wisdom great.

There is a tale of ancient days, Of long before the sunlight blazed And e’er in lands there rose to be Fair peoples living ‘neath the trees; To bring forth life ‘mid darkness vast That through the ages long would last, There sang a host, arrayed in light, Commanded by creator’s might. Such music! haunting, beauteous, strong, All voices cried within the throng, And from the chords and notes were worked Such wonders as men now observe. If music fair, and voices strong, And glorious themes their strains prolonged Did strands of time and space weave there, Into the earth, the water, air, Then ought we not continue thus, Though mortal, formed out of the dust, To music, song, and lay compose, That heal old wounds, and stir the soul?

Read, and learn, and knowledge gain, As did the men of old Who stood forth brave ‘neath tyrants’ reign, And spoke with wisdom bold. The ancient writers wielded pen, And words they sent beyond Their own brief lives, and realms, and ken, That on men light would dawn. Great privilege we hold in hand, Great precepts we should learn; For with them, beauteous is the land, Without them, it shall mourn.