POOR the pleasure Doled out by measure, Sweet though it be, while brief As falling of the leaf; Poor is pleasure By weight and measure. Sweet the sorrow Which ends to-morrow; Sharp though it be and sore, It ends for evermore: Zest of sorrow, What ends to-morrow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MR. HOUSMAN'S MESSAGE by EZRA POUND A DREAM, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE ON THE MANTLEPIECE by JAMES LANE ALLEN SONNET ON PIETRO REGGIO HIS SETTING TO MUSIC MR. COWLEY'S POEMS by PHILIP AYRES SHEKLA: A VISION by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE COACHMAN'S YARN by EDWIN JAMES BRADY |