Oliver Goldsmith

Thus idly busy rolls their world away.

Thus idly busy rolls their world away.

Amid thy desert-walks the lapwing flies,
And tires their echoes with unvaried cries.

Amid thy desert-walks the lapwing flies,
And tires their echoes with unvaried cries.

Thus 'tis with all; their chief and constant care
Is to seem everything but what they are.

Thus 'tis with all; their chief and constant care
Is to seem everything but what they are.

The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance read more

The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom, is--to die.

I hate the French because they are all slaves and wear wooden
shoes.

I hate the French because they are all slaves and wear wooden
shoes.