Rich windows that exclude the light, And passages that lead to nothing.
Thomas Gray (1716 - 1771)
Source: A Long Story.
Contributed by: Zaady
Can storied urn, or animated bust, Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of death?
Source: Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 11.
And hie him home, at evening's close, To sweet repast and calm repose.
Source: Ode on the Pleasure Arising from Vicissitude. Line 87.
The hues of bliss more brightly glow, Chastised by sabler tints of woe.
Source: Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude. Line 45.
One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree: Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.
Source: Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 28.
Ruin seize thee, ruthless king! Confusion on thy banners wait! Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing, They mock the air with idle state.
Source: The Bard. I. 1, Line 1.
When love could teach a monarch to be wise, And gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes.
Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune, He had not the method of making a fortune.
Source: Sketch of His Own Character
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Source: Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 9.
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn.
Source: Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 5.
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