Promise of the Champions

With darkest gloom upon us cast,
As failure fills our path onward,
A thousand defeats in our past,
More certain as we trip forward,

Time shall find not a taint of dread,
Nor faintest wishes of retreat
In hearts that, such as ours, were bred-
Amidst the worst to calmest beat.

Should dull and slow the wild creeks flow,
With hopelessness the winds resound,
Spreading wide despair as they blow,
And charms of luck be nowhere found,

On shall we march, high shall we hold
The pride that was, and will be, ours
Of standing fearless, brave and bold
On stormy seas, in raging wars.

And should we stumble down our way,
Burn fingers, bruise and scathe our knees,
We shall not falter, will not sway
In resolve deep as stone to breeze.

Far shall we go, to seize our day,
To win our share, to raise our bets.
We gather rosebuds while we may
For one more sun with each night sets.

Yes, mountains tall might mar our tracks
And valleys deep might stall our tread
While underneath, old dear Earth cracks
And thunder plots to char us dead.

And yet we strive, and yet we walk,
Battles we fought, farewells we bade,
For while no ship did sink at dock,
To sail all seas broad were they made.


(Inspired in part by Invictus, by William Henley, and The Psalm of Life, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.)
(And to be honest, I took a line from this poem by Robert Herrick.)