Oliver Goldsmith

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.

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.

A traveler of taste will notice that the wise are polite all over the world, but the fool only at read more

A traveler of taste will notice that the wise are polite all over the world, but the fool only at home.

In a polite age almost every person becomes a reader, and
receives more instruction from the Press than the read more

In a polite age almost every person becomes a reader, and
receives more instruction from the Press than the Pulpit.

Blest be those feasts, with simple plenty crowned,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the read more

Blest be those feasts, with simple plenty crowned,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail
Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale.