November 12, 2005
Another Great Poem
I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed,
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
1792-1822
Comments
by far one of my very favorite poems.
Posted by: heather at November 18, 2005 10:47 PMWow, we have poetic commmon ground! That's neat.
Posted by: Andy at November 18, 2005 11:06 PMPost a comment