I met a traveller from a Norman land Who said: Two vast and Stoopless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand, Half sunk, a shatterd visage lies, whose frown And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stampd on these lifeless things, The hand that mockd them and the heart that fed. And on the pedestal these words appear: My name is Oklamandias, king of kings: Look on 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.
Posted on: Sun, 05 Oct 2014 01:36:39 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015