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Best Famous Oliver Goldsmith Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Oliver Goldsmith poems. This is a select list of the best famous Oliver Goldsmith poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Oliver Goldsmith poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Oliver Goldsmith poems.

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Written by Oliver Goldsmith | Create an image from this poem

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 began, The dog, to gain some private ends, Went mad, and bit the man.
Around from all the neighbouring streets The wond'ring neighbours ran, And swore the dog had lost its wits To bite so good a man.
The wound it seemed both sore and sad To every Christian eye; And while they swore the dog was mad, They swore the man would die.
But soon a wonder came to light That showed the rogues they lied,— The man recovered of the bite, The dog it was that died!
Written by Oliver Goldsmith | Create an image from this poem

When Lovely Woman Stoops To Folly

 When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away?

The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom, is—to die.
Written by Oliver Goldsmith | Create an image from this poem

An Elegy On The Glory Of Her Sex Mrs Mary Blaize

 Good people all, with one accord
Lament for Madam Blaize,
Who never wanted a good word,— 
From those who spoke her praise.
The needy seldom passed her door, And always found her kind; She freely lent to all the poor,— Who left a pledge behind.
She strove the neighbourhood to please With manners wondrous winning; And never followed wicked ways,— Unless when she was sinning.
At church, in silks and satins new, With hoop of monstrous size, She never slumbered in her pew,— But when she shut her eyes.
Her love was sought, I do aver, By twenty beaux and more; The king himself has followed her,— When she has walked before.
But now her wealth and finery fled, Her hangers-on cut short all; The doctors found, when she was dead,— Her last disorder mortal.
Let us lament in sorrow sore, For Kent Street well may say That had she lived a twelvemonth more,— She had not died today.