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
Rich
Spoil
Eyes
Chill
Knowledge
Current
Penury
Eye
Currents
Genial
Soul
Rage
Froze
Time
Page
Spoils
Noble
Ample
Pages
Repressed

More quotes by Thomas Gray

Image
Can storied urn, or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
Thomas Gray
Image
Not all that tempts your wandering eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize Nor all that glisters gold.
Thomas Gray
Image
In buskined measures move Pale Grief and pleasing Pain, With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
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
The different steps and degrees of education may be compared to the artificer's operations upon marble it is one thing to dig it out of the quarry, and another to square it, to give it gloss and lustre, call forth every beautiful spot and vein, shape it into a column, or animate it into a statue.
Thomas Gray
Image
To brisk notes in cadence beating, glance their many-twinkling feet.
Thomas Gray
Image
To each his suff'rings: all are men, / Condemn'd alike to groan, / The tender for another's pain / Th' unfeeling for his own.
Thomas Gray
Image
To Contemplation's sober eye. / Such is the race of Man.
Thomas Gray
Image
Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
Thomas Gray
Image
Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor.
Thomas Gray
Image
And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
Thomas Gray
Image
To contemplation's sober eye, Such is the race of man And they that creep, and they that fly, Shall end where they began, Alike the busy and the gay, But flutter through life's little day.
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
Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed.
Thomas Gray
Image
Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear.
Thomas Gray
Image
Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.
Thomas Gray
Image
Alas, regardless of their doom, the little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come nor care beyond today.
Thomas Gray
Image
Along the cool sequestered vale of life, They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
Thomas Gray
Image
And moody madness laughing wild Amid severest woe.
Thomas Gray
Image
Now as the Paradisiacal pleasures of the Mahometans consist in playing upon the flute and lying with Houris, be mine to read eternal new romances of Marivaux and Crebillon.
Thomas Gray