Quote #4
O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.
More from Thomas Gray
- 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.
- Far from the sun and summer-gale, In thy green lap was Nature's Darling laid.
- What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, And from her own she learned to melt at others' woe.
- 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…
- Daughter of Jove, relentless power, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour The bad affright, afflict the bes…
- Now my weary lips I close; Leave me, leave me to repose!
- Iron sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles in the darkened air.
- Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune, He had not the method of making a fortune.