Yes, let the rich deride, the proud disdain. These simple blessings of the lowly train ; To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm than all the gloss of art. The Deserted Village: A Poem - Pàgina 14per Oliver Goldsmith - 1770 - 23 pàginesVisualització completa - Sobre aquest llibre
| Catherine Read Williams - 1841 - 358 pàgines
...the next day. Taking then an obscure path that led through the wood, he hurried away. CHAPTER II. " To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art; Spontaneous joys, where nature has its play, The soul adopts, and owns their firstborn... | |
| Susan Ferrier - 1841 - 448 pàgines
...to the dear group at Glen fern ; for she felt, though she dared not even to herself express it. — To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm than all the gloss of art. She could say nothing of her mother's tenderness, or her sister's affection ; but she... | |
| Ralph Knight - 1959 - 246 pàgines
...tripping dodging perhaps sad HALLOWEEN1 Yes/ let the rich deride, the proud disdain, The simple pleasures of the lowly train: To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art. The following poem will, by many readers, be well enough understood; but for the sake... | |
| Joseph McMinn - 1992 - 388 pàgines
...on the simple and natural, far from departing from the classical perspective is a reassertion of it: To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art; Spontaneous joys, where Nature has its play, (1. 253-5) Virgil's rural husbandmen feel... | |
| G. S. Rousseau - 1995 - 420 pàgines
...introduces the following reflections: Yes ! let the rich deride, the proud disdain, These simple blessings of the lowly train; To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art ... The sentiment here is better than the expression. The Poet is probably right in his... | |
| Diane Ravitch, Michael Ravitch - 2006 - 512 pàgines
...go round; Nor the coy maid, half willing to be pressed, Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest. To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art. Spontaneous joys, where Nature has its play, The soul adopts, and owns their first-born... | |
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