Several years ago on the occasion of the beginning of Fall I noted that Stella d'Oro was still providing blossoms, though many flowers have faded. I wrote this little verse in her honor, and as a reminder to Self that perseverance to the end is a virtue.
Oh, Lily, little Golden Star
May I live my life as you are.
You blossom where you're planted
And yet you are quite unda'nted
Through wet of flood
And you've now withstood
The long heat and dry of drought.
Your gaudier sisters have had their day.
They no longer bloom, their foliage hay.
And yet you soldier on.
May I keep at it 'til I'm gone.
May of me, as of you, it be stated
He started early and finished late and
Through it all, he kept the faith.
Consider the lilies of the field-- Jesus