I’m tired of Love: I’m still more tired of Rhyme.
But Money gives me pleasure all the time.

In these lines Belloc adopts a deliberately blunt, comic voice to puncture two traditional poetic preoccupations—romantic love and the making of verse itself (“rhyme”). The speaker claims weariness with both, then delivers the punchline: money, unlike love or art, provides reliable, repeatable gratification. The effect is satirical rather than confessional, playing on the contrast between lofty subjects and a prosaic, even cynical, conclusion. Read in Belloc’s characteristic light-verse mode, the couplet mocks sentimental idealism and exposes the ever-present material motive that polite culture often pretends to transcend.