POEMS: “Joy And Pleasure” by William Henry Davies

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Joy And Pleasure

Now, joy is born of parents poor,
And pleasure of our richer kind;
Though pleasure’s free, she cannot sing
As sweet a song as joy confined.

Pleasure’s a Moth, that sleeps by day
And dances by false glare at night;
But Joy’s a Butterfly, that loves
To spread its wings in Nature’s light.

Joy’s like a Bee that gently sucks
Away on blossoms its sweet hour;
But pleasure’s like a greedy Wasp,
That plums and cherries would devour.

Joy’s like a Lark that lives alone,
Whose ties are very strong, though few;
But Pleasure like a Cuckoo roams,
Makes much acquaintance, no friends true.

Joy from her heart doth sing at home,
With little care if others hear;
But pleasure then is cold and dumb,
And sings and laughs with strangers near.

by William Henry Davies

sunset-umbrellaquote-pleasure-is-just-a-shadow-of-joy-when-there-is-no-joy-in-you-you-become-a-pleasure-seeker-jaggi-vasudev-87-17-57The-noblest-pleasure-is-the-joy-of-understanding.

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