OZYMANDIAS ~BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
You found me once again,
you thief of hearts. In drunken ecstasy,
you searched the bazaar and found me.
Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
Our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me