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.

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.

We sometimes had those little rubs which Providence sends to
enhance the value of its favours.

We sometimes had those little rubs which Providence sends to
enhance the value of its favours.

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.

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.