AS Avarice grows, all vices else depart; The care of hoarding wholly fills the heart. Who lives for this, in this shall pleasure find, And this alone shall satisfy the mind. Beg of a friend, he doubts or says you nay; Gold's the true friend that never turns away. Hoarding's a pleasure well worth all the rest-- To know that all we want may be possest; To have the means our soul doth satisfy; All that I want I have the power to buy, And that's enough. Some noble house I see; Money can buy one better still for me. I see a charming woman. Well, I say, My gold could win her, and content I stay. In short, all things the world doth chiefly prize My coffers hold; I have them 'neath my eyes And 'neath my hand. Thus Avarice proffers all; Can charm our senses, and our soul enthral. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMAGE TO THE BRITISH MUSEUM by WILLIAM EMPSON TO AGE by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR HYMNS OF THE MARSHES: THE MARSHES OF GLYNN by SIDNEY LANIER THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 14 by OMAR KHAYYAM HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 1 by EZRA POUND |