THE miser loves to count his store Of barren ducats o'er and o'er: Above all pomp or pleasure He loves his golden treasure. And I do love to count alone A useless treasure of mine own Heigho! Delights of dreaming, So dear, and only seeming! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PIANO by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE SONNET: 16. TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL, MAY 1652 by JOHN MILTON MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 6 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI FRED ENGLEHARDT'S BABY by CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS |