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.

As a wit, if not first, in the very first line.

As a wit, if not first, in the very first line.

Full well they laughed, with counterfeited glee,
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he:
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Full well they laughed, with counterfeited glee,
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he:
Full well the busy whisper, circling round,
Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd.

Her modest looks the cottage might adorn,
Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn.

Her modest looks the cottage might adorn,
Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn.