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. 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

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

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