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Thomas Gray
Quote #10
I shall be but a shrimp of an author.
More from Thomas Gray
Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune, He had not the method of making a fortune.
Sweet is the breath of vernal shower, The bee's collected treasures sweet, Sweet music's melting fall, but sweeter yet The still small voic…
Iron sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles in the darkened air.
Ye distant spires, ye antique towers, That crown the wat'ry glade.
Now my weary lips I close; Leave me, leave me to repose!
Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.
He passed the flaming bounds of place and time: The living throne, the sapphire-blaze, Where angels tremble, while they gaze, He saw; but b…
Alas, regardless of their doom, The little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond today.
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