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. 

1. Italy
2. On Seeing a Lady Perform a Certain Character
3. From the Latin of Vida
4. Answer to an Invitation to Pass the Christmas at Barton
5. The Traveller

Edgar Guest Memory ("I stood and watched him playing")

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