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Poem by 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. Oliver Goldsmith Oliver Goldsmith's other poems:
Poems of the other poets with the same name: 2180 Views |
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