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Oliver Goldsmith

Memory

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.

 
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About the poet
Oliver Goldsmith
 
By the same poet
Woman
 
Related books
Oliver Goldsmith at amazon.com


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