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. Song, from the Comedy of “She Stoops to Conquer”
2. Italy
3. An Author's Bedchamber
4. On the Death of the Right Hounourable
5. From the Latin of Vida

William Yeats Memory ("ONE had a lovely face")

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