Colin F. Jones


Tis all to waste, the truth I move to seek,
For if not heard, what good is it to speak?
For where sweet joyous sin is apt to play,
Few hear the truth in what a soul might say.
A Mother’s love is not deterred by wrong
For in her heart her son doth still belong,
And though he wears the uniform of his state
Tis only to her boy she can relate
For truth is not as powerful as her love
And love and loyalty are a hand and glove.
So do we speak the truth that she doth fear
Or say the things untrue she wants to hear?
Perhaps the truth is better never said
Permitting lies to sully her instead.