The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.
Thomas Gray (1716 - 1771)
Source: Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude. Line 53.
Contributed by: Zaady
But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.
Source: Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 13.
Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor.
Source: Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 8.
Rich windows that exclude the light, And passages that lead to nothing.
Source: A Long Story.
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.
And waste their sweetness on the desert air.
Source: Elegy, stanza 14. Charles Churchill: Gotham, book ii. line 20.
Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.
Source: Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 15.
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