Oliver Goldsmith

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.

Careless their merits or their faults to scan,
His pity gave ere charity began.

Careless their merits or their faults to scan,
His pity gave ere charity began.

Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill;
Yet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still.

Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill;
Yet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still.

The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind,
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind:
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The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind,
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind:
There all in sweet confusion sought the shade,
And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.

Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe,
That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me read more

Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe,
That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so.