The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
THOMAS GRAY, Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard
- Where ignorance is bliss,
- 'Tis folly to be wise.
THOMAS GRAY, Odes on a Distant Prospect of Eton College
- What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know,
- And from her own she learned to melt at others' woe.
THOMAS GRAY, "Hymn to Adversity"
- To each his suff'rings: all are men,
- Condemn'd alike to groan.
THOMAS GRAY, Odes on a Distant Prospect of Eton College
- See the wretch that long has tost
- On the thorny bed of pain,
- At length repair his vigour lost,
- And breathe and walk again:
- 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.
THOMAS GRAY, "Ode on the Pleasure Arising from Vicissitude"
- Hark, his hands the lyre explore!
- Bright-eyed Fancy, hov'ring o'er,
- Scatters from her pictur'd urn
- Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.
- Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
- And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
THOMAS GRAY, "An Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard"
- Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade!
- Ah, fields belov'd in vain!
- Where once my careless childhood stray'd,
- A stranger yet to pain!
- I feel the gales that from ye blow
- A momentary bliss bestow,
- As waving fresh their gladsome wing,
- My weary soul they seem to sooth,
- And, redolent of joy and youth,
- To breathe a second spring.
THOMAS GRAY, Odes on a Distant Prospect of Eton College
- O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move
- The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.
THOMAS GRAY, The Progress of Poesy
- From toil he wins his spirits light,
- From busy day the peaceful night;
- Rich, from the very want of wealth,
- In heaven's best treasures, peace and health.
THOMAS GRAY, "Ode on the Pleasure Arising from Vicissitude"
- Not all that tempts your wandering eyes
- And heedless hearts, is lawful prize;
- Nor all that glisters gold.
THOMAS GRAY, "On the Death of a Favourite Cat"
- Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune,
- He had not the method of making a fortune.
THOMAS GRAY, "On His Own Character"
Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear.
THOMAS GRAY, Elegy in a Country Churchyard
Thoughts that breathe and words that burn.
THOMAS GRAY, Progress of Poesy
They hear a voice in every wind,
And snatch a fearful joy.
THOMAS GRAY, Ode in a Distant Prospect of Eton College
Read A. C. Benson's essay on Thomas Gray
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