I met a traveler from an antique land, Who said - "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . near them, on the sand, Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lips, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandia, King of kings, Look on my Works ye Mighty, and dispair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away."
2 comments:
Hi Kimberly, just came across this post of yours. I remember the poem from school and it's a good irony of this world's power, fame and riches. Good to read it again.
Seeing the ruins of Dion reminded me of this poem for that same reason. It also reminds me to store up treasure in Heaven, where rust and moths cannot destroy it.
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