Oliver Goldsmith

But winter lingering chills the lap of May.

But winter lingering chills the lap of May.

Tenderness is a virtue.

Tenderness is a virtue.

In arguing, too, the parson own'd his skill,
For even though vanquished he could argue still.

In arguing, too, the parson own'd his skill,
For even though vanquished he could argue still.

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.

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.