Finale

Here is this vale of sweet abiding, My ultimate and dulcet home, That gently dreams above the chiding of restless and impatient foam; Beyond the hazards of hell weather, The harceling of wind and sea, With timbers morticed tight together My old hulk havens happily. The dawn exultantly discloses My lawn lit with mimosa gold; The joy of January roses Is with me when rich lands are cold; Serene with bells of beauty chiming, This dream domain to be belongs, By sweet conspiracy of rhyming, And virtue of some idle songs. I thank the gracious Lord of Living Who gave me power and will to write: May I be worthy of His giving And win to merit in His sight. . . . O merciful and mighty Master, Though I have faltered in the past, Your scribe I be. . . . Despite disaster Let me be faithful to the last.