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    The Deserted Village
    The Deserted Village
    The Deserted Village
    Ebook47 pages20 minutes

    The Deserted Village

    By Oliver Goldsmith

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    About this ebook

    The Deserted Village is a poem by Oliver Goldsmith published in 1770. It is a work of social commentary, and condemns rural depopulation and the pursuit of excessive wealth.
    The location of the poem's deserted village is unknown, but the description may have been influenced by Goldsmith's memory of his childhood in rural Ireland, and his travels around England. The poem is written in heroic couplets, and describes the decline of a village and the emigration of many of its residents to America. In the poem, Goldsmith criticises rural depopulation, the moral corruption found in towns, consumerism, enclosure, landscape gardening, avarice, and the pursuit of wealth from international trade. The poem employs, in the words of one critic, "deliberately precise obscurity", and does not reveal the reason why the village has been deserted. The poem was very popular in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, but also provoked critical responses, including from other poets such as George Crabbe. References to the poem, and particularly its ominous "Ill fares the land" warning, have appeared in a number of other contexts.
    LanguageEnglish
    Publisheranboco
    Release dateAug 26, 2016
    ISBN9783736407565
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      Book preview

      The Deserted Village - Oliver Goldsmith

      VILLAGE

      By Oliver Goldsmith

      THE DESERTED VILLAGE

      Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain,

      Where health and plenty cheer'd the labouring swain,

      Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid,

      And parting summer's lingering blooms delay'd.

      Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,

      Seats of my youth, when every sport could please,

      How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green,

      Where humble happiness endear'd each scene!

      How often have I paused on every charm,

      The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm,

      The never-failing brook, the busy mill,

      The decent church that topt the neighbouring hill,

      The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,

      For talking age and whispering lovers made!

      How often have I blest the coming day,

      When toil remitting lent its turn to play,

      And all the village train, from labour free,

      Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree;

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