Quote #8
Iron sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles in the darkened air.
More from Thomas Gray
- Now my weary lips I close; Leave me, leave me to repose!
- Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune, He had not the method of making a fortune.
- 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…
- I shall be but a shrimp of an author.
- Far from the sun and summer-gale, In thy green lap was Nature's Darling laid.
- 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…
- O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.
- Ye distant spires, ye antique towers, That crown the wat'ry glade.