Colin F. Jones

THOU ART THE SUNSET

Thou art the sunset of my dreary day,
As I set forth through fog to parts unknown,
A mist that would more likely bar my way,
But thou art my love awaiting me at home.
What finer purpose could dwell in my heart;
What better thought than love could guide me on.
Rare are those moments when we are apart,
Yet even then we are in twain as one.
Thou art a ray of light when nights are dark,
And thou art host to all my better thoughts,
Whereas I stumble yet I still embark,
Towards the promise of your sweet reports:
Yet if I do falter dear, and do not come,
Tis only death o’er love that will have won.