Thomas Gray

“Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.”

— Thomas Gray

Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.

— Thomas Gray

In buskined measures move Pale Grief and pleasing Pain, With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.

— Thomas Gray

Not all that tempts your wandering eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize; Nor all that glisters gold.

— Thomas Gray

O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of love.

— Thomas Gray

Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions date descry.

— Thomas Gray

Man's feeble race what ills await! Labour, and Penury, the racks of Pain, Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train, And Death, sad refuge…

— Thomas Gray

Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to…

— Thomas Gray

Alas, regardless of their doom, the little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come, nor care beyond to-day.

— Thomas Gray

But knowledge to their eyes her ample page Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repressed their noble…

— Thomas Gray

The applause of list'ning senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,…

— Thomas Gray

The insect-youth are on the wing, Eager to taste the honied spring, And float amid the liquid noon!

— Thomas Gray

England, so long mistress of the sea, Where winds and waves confess her sovereignty, Her ancient triumphs yet on high shall bear…

— Thomas Gray

Ruin seize thee, ruthless king! Confusion on thy banners wait! Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing, They mock the air with idle…

— Thomas Gray

Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune, he had not the method of making a fortune.

— Thomas Gray

Her track, where'er the goddess roves, Glory pursue, and gen'rous shame, Th' unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame.

— Thomas Gray

If the best man's faults were written on his forehead, he would draw his hat over his eyes.

— Thomas Gray

“The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow’r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave Awaits alike the inevitable hour:…

— Thomas Gray

Now as the Paradisiacal pleasures of the Mahometans consist in playing upon the flute and lying with Houris, be mine to read…

— Thomas Gray

There sit the sainted sage, the bard divine, The few, whom genius gave to shine Through every unborn age, and undiscovered clime.

— Thomas Gray

Any fool may write a most valuable book by chance, if he will only tell us what he heard and saw with…

— Thomas Gray

No further seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode (There they alike in trembling hope repose),…

— Thomas Gray

E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.

— Thomas Gray

The Attic warbler pours her throat, Responsive to the cuckoo's note, The untaught harmony of spring.

— Thomas Gray