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lirik lagu oliver goldsmith - niamh cusack - the village

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sweet was the sound, when oft at evening’s close
up yonder hill the village murmur rose;
there, as i past with careless steps and slow
the mingling notes came soften’d from below;
the swain responsive as the milk~maid sung
the sober herd that lowed to meet their young
the noisy geese that gabbled o’er the pool
the playful children just let loose from school
the watch~dog’s voice that bayed the whispering wind
and thе loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind
thesе all in sweet confusion sought the shade
and filled each pause the nightingale had made
but now the sounds of population fail
no cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale
no busy steps the grass~grown foot~way tread
for all the bloomy flush of life is fled
all but yon widowed, solitary thing
that feebly bends beside the plashy spring;
she, wretched matron, forced in age, for bread
to strip the brook with mantling cresses spread
to pick her wintry f~ggot from the th~rn
to seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn;
she only left of all the harmless train
the sad historian of the pensive plain


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