Poem by Oliver Goldsmith

A Sonnet

WEEPING, murmuring, complaining,
Lost to every gay delight;
MYRA, too sincere for feigning,
Fears th' approaching bridal night.

Yet, why impair thy bright perfection?
Or dim thy beauty with a tear?
Had MYRA followed my direction,
She long had wanted cause of fear. 

1. Italy
2. Answer to an Invitation to Pass the Christmas at Barton
3. The Traveller
4. The Clown's Reply
5. From the Latin of Vida

Francis Beaumont A Sonnet ("Flattering Hope, away and leave me")

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