Poem by Lucretia Maria Davidson

Pleasure

  (Written in her thirteenth year)

Away! unstable, fleeting Pleasure,
Thou troublesome and golided treasure;
When the false jewel changes hue,
There's naught, O man, that's left for you!
What many grasp at with such joy,
Is but her shade, a foolish toy;
She is not found at every court,
At every ball, and every sport,
But in that heart she loves to rest,
That's with a guiltless conscience blest.

1. The Wee Flower of the Heather
2. On the Death of the Beautiful Mrs.--
3. To a Friend, Whom I Had Not Seen Since My Childhood
4. Cupid’s Bower
5. On an Æolian Harp

Charlotte Bront¸ Pleasure ("True pleasure breathes not city air")

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