"AN IMMORALITY" Ezra Pound

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  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.