Google Poem Search

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Poem of the day-122: From The Deserted Village by Oliver Goldsmith



In all my wand'rings round this world of care,
In all my griefs--and GOD has given my share--
I still had hopes my latest hours to crown,                      
Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down;
To husband out life's taper at the close,
And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
I still had hopes, for pride attends us still,
Amidst the swains to show my book-learn'd skill,                 
Around my fire an evening group to draw,
And tell of all I felt, and all I saw;
And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue,
Pants to the place from whence at first she flew,
I still had hopes, my long vexations pass'd,                     
Here to return--and die at home at last.

Write-up on Oliver Goldsmith from Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oliver_Goldsmith

Grateful thanks to Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.