Pleasure is not the one I love: Her laughter in the market-place Makes every fool her echo there; And from her finger-tips she throws Wild kisses in the open air. Give me that little miser, Joy, Who hoards at home her quiet charms; And offers with her two soft lips A warmer kiss than any thrown By Pleasure, from her finger-tips. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 36 by JAMES JOYCE OVERHEARD ON A SALTMARSH by HAROLD MONRO VITAI LAMPADA by HENRY JOHN NEWBOLT AN ELEGY: TO AN OLD BEAUTY by THOMAS PARNELL PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 52. YA HAKK by EDWIN ARNOLD HOOKER'S ACROSS by GEORGE HENRY BOKER CONTENT: A SONG by JANE (HUGHES) BRERETON |