Oliver Goldsmith Poems
|42.||Description Of An Author's Bedchamber||4/7/2010|
|43.||An Elegy On The Glory Of Her Sex, Mrs Mary Blaize||4/7/2010|
|44.||The Deserted Village||1/13/2003|
|46.||An Elegy On The Death Of A Mad Dog||1/13/2003|
Comments about Oliver Goldsmith
An Elegy On The Death Of A Mad Dog
Good people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song;
And if you find it wondrous short,
It cannot hold you long.
In Islington there was a man
Of whom the world might say,
That still a godly race he ran—
Whene'er he went to pray.
A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad—
When he put on his clothes.
And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,
And curs of low degree.
This dog and man at first were friends;
But when a pique ...
O MEMORY, thou fond deceiver,
Still importunate and vain,
To former joys recurring ever,
And turning all the past to pain:
Thou, like the world, th' oppress'd oppressing,
Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe:
And he who wants each other blessing
In thee must ever find a foe.