Though the warrior's sun has set
Its light shall linger round us yet,
Bright, radiant, blest.
LONGFELLOW.
The year's last milestone on the journey home!
Ah! as we ponder o'er the toilworn road,
A road by winding paths made wearisome,
Have we done aught to light another's load,
To cheer some heart in sorrow, or to calm
Some storm-tossed soul upon the sea of doubt,
To soothe some aching heart with healing balm,
To hold aloft Hope's pennon streaming out?
Then we can gaze along our path with joy,
Knowing that bleeding footmarks, once impressed,
Have not been vainly trodden; this shall buoy
Our feeble footsteps on to perfect rest.
And when at last our rugged race is run
Our Master's loving voice will say, "Well done."
First published in The Queenslander, 3 December 1892
and later in:
A Sheaf of Sonnets by A. J. Rolfe, 1892
Note: this poem in the twelfth in a sequence of poems that the author wrote about each month of the year.
Author reference sites: Austlit
See also.
Its light shall linger round us yet,
Bright, radiant, blest.
LONGFELLOW.
The year's last milestone on the journey home!
Ah! as we ponder o'er the toilworn road,
A road by winding paths made wearisome,
Have we done aught to light another's load,
To cheer some heart in sorrow, or to calm
Some storm-tossed soul upon the sea of doubt,
To soothe some aching heart with healing balm,
To hold aloft Hope's pennon streaming out?
Then we can gaze along our path with joy,
Knowing that bleeding footmarks, once impressed,
Have not been vainly trodden; this shall buoy
Our feeble footsteps on to perfect rest.
And when at last our rugged race is run
Our Master's loving voice will say, "Well done."
First published in The Queenslander, 3 December 1892
and later in:
A Sheaf of Sonnets by A. J. Rolfe, 1892
Note: this poem in the twelfth in a sequence of poems that the author wrote about each month of the year.
Author reference sites: Austlit
See also.
