The Crown

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The Crown

Poem

How many spires O soul hast thou mounted,
Through how many lives of long patient labour
Nurtured carefully the blazing fire of ardour
This thy impossible endeavour to attempt?

How many mazes O soul thou didst navigate,
The dead turns, loops inturned and deception doors,
All striving through guile to arrest thy force,
But ever thou keepest the aim of thy quest.

How many remembrances O soul are lodged in thee
Of the long tread through the roads of time,
Gathering each little clue in the heart of thine
To now be so near to the gates of victory.

How didst thou know O soul of all this,
The alchemy’s ingredients and process trick?
By what old debt didst thou my body pick
To settle my sorrows with light and bliss?

How many names O soul do I now owe
The heart-coin of gratitude to ever repay?
The names many or one thou must say
Of all who played a part, kinsman or foe.

Near now the pedestal, near the victory hour,
Assume thy crown O soul to be His servitor.