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Thomas Gray
Quote #15
Grim-visaged comfortless Despair.
More from Thomas Gray
Alas, regardless of their doom, The little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond today.
To each his suff'rings: all are men, Condemn'd alike to groan, The tender for another's pain; Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet ah! why should…
Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.
'Twas on a lofty vase's side, Where China's gayest art had dyed The azure flowers, that blow; Demurest of the tabby kind, The pensive Selim…
Ye distant spires, ye antique towers, That crown the wat'ry glade.
What female heart can gold despise? What cat's averse to fish?
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…
No dolphin came, no Nereid stirred; Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard. A favourite has no friend!
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