Irish Poets: Oliver Goldsmith - Poem by James McIntyre
Goldsmith wrote Deserted Village,
Now again reduced to tillage;
Once happiest village of the plain,
Place now you look for it in vain;
There but one man he doth make rich,
And hundreds struggle in the ditch;
"Ill fare the land to many ills a prey
Where wealth accumelates but men decay."
His honest Vicar of Wakefield
Forever he will pleasure yield.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You