Leaves Poems: 16 / 500

An Immorality

Rating: 2.8

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.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Raymond Farrell 22 April 2015

Economy of words and gets right to the point. Doesn't destroy the poem with unnecessary symbols and endless word play etc

8 2 Reply
Michael Gale 05 December 2008

Pretty durned good! God bless all poets-MJG.

6 8 Reply
Walter Durk 05 October 2007

This is a poem I really enjoy.

8 8 Reply