Oliver Goldsmith

Aromatic plants bestow
No spicy fragrance while they grow;
But crush'd or trodden to the ground,
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Aromatic plants bestow
No spicy fragrance while they grow;
But crush'd or trodden to the ground,
Diffuse their balmy sweets around.

Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill;
Yet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still.

Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill;
Yet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still.

His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand;
His manners were gentle, complying, and bland;
Still born to read more

His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand;
His manners were gentle, complying, and bland;
Still born to improve in every part,
His pencil out faces, his manners are heart.

Like the bee, we should make our industry our amusement.

Like the bee, we should make our industry our amusement.

Cheerful at morn he wakes from short repose,
Breathes the keen air, and carols as he goes.

Cheerful at morn he wakes from short repose,
Breathes the keen air, and carols as he goes.