Oliver Goldsmith

What if in Scotland's wilds we viel'd our head,
Where tempests whistle round the sordid bed;
Where read more

What if in Scotland's wilds we viel'd our head,
Where tempests whistle round the sordid bed;
Where the rug's two-fold use we might display,
By night a blanket, and a plaid by day.

Cheerful at morn he wakes from short repose,
Breathes the keen air, and carols as he goes.

Cheerful at morn he wakes from short repose,
Breathes the keen air, and carols as he goes.

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he read more

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad
When he put on his clothes.

Remembrance wakes with all her busy train,
Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.

Remembrance wakes with all her busy train,
Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.

A night-cap deck'd his brows instead of bay,
A cap by night,--a stocking all the day.

A night-cap deck'd his brows instead of bay,
A cap by night,--a stocking all the day.