Quote

But knowledge to their eyes her ample page Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.

Thomas Gray

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Thomas Gray
Age: 54 †
Born: 1716
Born: December 26
Died: 1771
Died: July 30
Literary Critic
Poet
London
England
Soul
Rage
Froze
Time
Page
Spoils
Noble
Ample
Pages
Repressed
Rich
Spoil
Eyes
Chill
Knowledge
Current
Penury
Eye
Currents
Genial

More quotes by Thomas Gray

Image
Along the cool sequestered vale of life, They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
Thomas Gray
Image
Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
Thomas Gray
Image
Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch A broader browner shade Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech O'er-canopies the glade, Beside some water's rushy brink With me the Muse shall sit, and think.
Thomas Gray
Image
Any fool may write a most valuable book by chance, if he will only tell us what he heard and saw with veracity.
Thomas Gray
Image
Scatter plenty o'er a smiling land.
Thomas Gray
Image
Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly rising o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes, Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm.
Thomas Gray
Image
Sweet is the breath of vernal shower,/ The bee's collected treasure sweet,/ Sweet music's melting fall, but sweeter yet/ The still small voice of gratitude.
Thomas Gray
Image
To Contemplation's sober eye. / Such is the race of Man.
Thomas Gray
Image
Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.
Thomas Gray
Image
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
Image
Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.
Thomas Gray
Image
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Thomas Gray
Image
How low, how little are the proud, How indigent the great!
Thomas Gray
Image
Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! Ah, fields beloved 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.
Thomas Gray
Image
Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor.
Thomas Gray
Image
To brisk notes in cadence beating, glance their many-twinkling feet.
Thomas Gray
Image
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, Heaven did a recompense as largely send: He gave to mis'ry (all he had) a tear, He gained from Heav'n ('t was all he wish'd) a friend.
Thomas Gray
Image
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Thomas Gray
Image
Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
Thomas Gray
Image
Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed.
Thomas Gray