|Frank J. Wilstach, comp. A Dictionary of Similes. 1916.|
|But pleasures are like poppies spread,|
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river,
A moment whitethen melts for ever;
Or like the borealis race,
That flit ere you can point their place;
Or like the rainbows lovely form,
Evanishing amid the storm.
| Pleasure, like an over-fed lamp, is extinguished by the excess of its own aliment.|
|Pleasures like the flowr,|
Frail and fleeting ever;
Now decks the bowr,
Now tis gone for ever.
| Pleasures are like liqueurs: They must be drunk but in small glasses.|