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O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of love.

Thomas Gray

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Thomas Gray
Age: 54 †
Born: 1716
Born: December 26
Died: 1771
Died: July 30
Literary Critic
Poet
London
England
Light
Bloom
Young
Purple
Love
Cheeks
Life
Rising
Warm
Move
Bosom
Moving
Bosoms
Desire
Cheek

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As to posterity, I may ask what has it ever done to oblige me?
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Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
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Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor.
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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.
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The time will come, when thou shalt lift thine eyes To watch a long-drawn battle in the skies. While aged peasants, too amazed for words, Stare at the flying fleets of wondrous birds.
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For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind?
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Her track, where'er the goddess roves, Glory pursue, and gen'rous shame, Th' unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame.
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Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed.
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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.
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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.
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The Attic warbler pours her throat, Responsive to the cuckoo's note, The untaught harmony of spring.
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Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear.
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Any fool may write a most valuable book by chance, if he will only tell us what he heard and saw with veracity.
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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.
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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.
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How low, how little are the proud, How indigent the great!
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Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions date descry.
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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.
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One principal characteristic of vice in the present age is the contempt of fame.
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Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray Along the cool sequester'd vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
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