Joy and Pleasure
(William Henry Davies)
Now, joy is born of parents poor,
And pleasure of our richer kind;
Though pleasure's free, she cannot sing
As sweet a song as joy confined.
Pleasure's a Moth, that sleeps by day
And dances by false glare at night;
But Joy's a Butterfly, that loves
To spread its wings in Nature's light.
Joy's like a Bee that gently sucks
Away on blossoms its sweet hour;
But pleasure's like a greedy Wasp,
That plums and cherries would devour.
Joy's like a Lark that lives alone,
Whose ties are very strong, though few;
But Pleasure like a Cuckoo roams,
Makes much acquaintance, no friends true.
Joy from her heart doth sing at home,
With little care if others hear;
But pleasure then is cold and dumb,
And sings and laughs with strangers near.
Totally handmade, every tiny detail, every bit made with love! Every animal, every bug I create has it's own character and soul.
Detailed Honey Bee. To protect you and guide you.
She rests on a dripping honeycomb.
Surrounded by stars.
Adorned with genuine Citrine gemstone.
Please send me an email to firstname.lastname@example.org with your true size.
Perfect soft patina finish with shiny accents.
Ships in 29 working days.