Oliver Goldsmith

And, e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy,
The heart, distrusting, asks if this be joy.

And, e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy,
The heart, distrusting, asks if this be joy.

Every pang that rends the heart.

Every pang that rends the heart.

The dancing pair that simply sought renown,By holding out to tire each other down;The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,While read more

The dancing pair that simply sought renown,By holding out to tire each other down;The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,While secret laughter titter'd round the place;The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love,The matrons glance that would those looks reprove:These were thy charms, sweet village; sports like these,With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please;These were thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,These were thy charms -- but all these charms are fled. - Deserted Village, The.

At night returning, every labour sped,
He sits him down, the monarch of a shed;
Smiles by read more

At night returning, every labour sped,
He sits him down, the monarch of a shed;
Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys
His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze;
While his lov'd partner, boastful of her hoard,
Displays her cleanly platter on the board.

His conduct still right with his argument wrong.

His conduct still right with his argument wrong.