Colin F. Jones

FEAR AND DEATH

Sweet darling sovereign of sweet thought,
Where do you hide among the nettled weeds?
What deuce doth occupy your fair resort
That memories foul within your sanctuary breeds?
You are the passion that distorts my claim
With promises that germinate in lie.
For nothing that you do relieves my pain.
And what reward is peace that I must die
In order to perceive what life desired?
To live with love and friendship hand in hand,
Instead of waiting till all life retired,
Hides in death all that this life demands.
‘Tis fear indeed, which germinates belief
By giving not what promise makes a thief.