Quote #15

Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow, Or by the lazy Scheldt, or wandering Po.

More from Oliver Goldsmith

  1. Hope, like the gleaming taper's light, Adorns and cheers our way; And still, as darker grows the night, Emits a brighter ray.
  2. Where'er I roam, whatever realms I see, My heart untraveled fondly turns to thee; Still to my brother turns with ceaseless pain, And drags …
  3. To the last moment of his breath On hope the wretch relies; And e'en the pang preceding death Bids expectation rise.
  4. Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam, His first, best country ever is, at home.
  5. O Memory! thou fond deceiver.
  6. Where wealth and freedom reign contentment fails, And honor sinks where commerce long prevails.
  7. That strain once more; it bids remembrance rise.
  8. Man seems the only growth that dwindles here.

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