Oliver Goldsmith

No one but a fool would measure their satisfaction by what the world thinks of it.

No one but a fool would measure their satisfaction by what the world thinks of it.

Turn, gentle Hermit of the Dale,
And guide my lonely way
To where you taper cheers the read more

Turn, gentle Hermit of the Dale,
And guide my lonely way
To where you taper cheers the vale
With hospitable ray.

The whitewash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor,
The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door;
The chest read more

The whitewash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor,
The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door;
The chest contriv'd a double debt to pay,
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day.

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.

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.