Oliver Goldsmith

I find you want me to furnish you with argument and intellects
too. No, sir, these, I protest you, read more

I find you want me to furnish you with argument and intellects
too. No, sir, these, I protest you, are too hard for me.

And the weak soul, within itself unbless'd,
Leans for all pleasure on another's breast.

And the weak soul, within itself unbless'd,
Leans for all pleasure on another's breast.

Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,
I see the lords of humankind pass by.

Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,
I see the lords of humankind pass by.

Turn, gentle Hermit of the Dale,
And guide my lonely way
To where you taper cheers the read more

Turn, gentle Hermit of the Dale,
And guide my lonely way
To where you taper cheers the vale
With hospitable ray.

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.