Image Source- Pexels- ROMAN ODINTSOV
O thou, whose soul is lit with sacred flame,
Whose heart aspires to seek eternal name,
The fates conspire to weave thy golden thread,
Where wisdom walketh, and the muses tread.
Not idly shalt thou pass through fleeting years,
But crown thy hours with triumph, not with tears;
The scrolls of knowledge open at thy call,
And from their leaves a higher light shall fall.
In marble halls, where ancient voices dwell,
Thy name, like chimes of silver, time shall tell;
And in the courts of learning’s pure domain,
Thy labor’s fruit shall blossom, not in vain.
Be steadfast, child of morning’s early ray,
The world awaits the dawn of thy bright day;
Though trials come, they bow before thy might,
For thou art destined to the loftiest height.
So may thy spirit, clad in virtue’s shield,
Win all the honors wisdom’s fields can yield;
And when the twilight crowns thy noble quest,
The ages yet unborn shall call thee blest.
This was written by our contributing writer, Atia Sanjida.
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