No flocks that range the valley free To slaughter I condemn; Taught by that Power that pities me, I learn to… — Oliver Goldsmith
No flocks that range the valley free
To slaughter I condemn;
Taught by that Power that pities me,
I learn to pity them:
But from the mountain’s grassy side
A guiltless feast I bring;
A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied,
And water from the spring.
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More from this book
By the living jingo, she was all of a muck of sweat.
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?
A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad
When he put on his clothes.
