Westering Sun

Temptation is in the sunset To gaze behind the stern Toward a distant landfall To which I may ne’er return. I will point my bow to westward, Where yonder sets the sun, Following true my guide star Until the sailing is done. I will never sing of lost loves And things that might have been. I will run before the wind Unless I return again. Leave, furled in full sail glorious, Damn what is in the wake! Do not let the shore-bound gulls Let me feel it's a mistake.