But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flower, it's bloom is shed; Or, like the snow-fall in the river, A moment white, then melts forever.
Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white-then melts for ever . . .
Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Learn taciturnity and let that be your motto!
Suspense is worst than disappointment.
Pleasures are like poppies spread: You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed.