Oliver Goldsmith ( 6 of 116 )
Round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
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.
This same philosophy is a good horse in the stable, but an arrant
jade on a journey.
This same philosophy is a good horse in the stable, but an arrant
jade on a journey.
As a wit, if not first, in the very first line.
As a wit, if not first, in the very first line.
Amid thy desert-walks the lapwing flies,
And tires their echoes with unvaried cries.
Amid thy desert-walks the lapwing flies,
And tires their echoes with unvaried cries.
Where village statesmen talk'd with looks profound.
And news much older than their ale went round.
Where village statesmen talk'd with looks profound.
And news much older than their ale went round.
