Maxioms by Oliver Goldsmith
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.
Man seems the only growth that dwindles here.
Man seems the only growth that dwindles here.
The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind,
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind:
read more
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.
O Luxury! thou curst by Heaven's decree.
O Luxury! thou curst by Heaven's decree.
Conscience is a coward, and those faults it has not strength to
prevent, it seldom has justice enough to read more
Conscience is a coward, and those faults it has not strength to
prevent, it seldom has justice enough to accuse.
