by: Ezra Pound (1885-1972)
POEMS BY EZRA POUND
- ING 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.