Sing we for love and idleness,
Naught else is worth the having.
Though I have been in many a land,
There is naught else in living.
And I would rather have my sweet,
Though rose-leaves die of grieving,
Than do high deeds in Hungary
To pass all men's believing.
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
More Poems by Ezra Pound
Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on An Immorality
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem An Immorality here.
Commenting turned off, sorry.