Quote

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.

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
Life
Kept
Tenors
Cool
Ignoble
Along
Stray
Learning
Strife
Learn
Sober
Sequester
Wish
Wishes
Noiseless
Way
Crowd
Vale
Never
Crowds
Tenor

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Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms.
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E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
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Ah, tell them they are men!
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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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To Contemplation's sober eye. / Such is the race of Man.
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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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And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
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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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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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The applause of list'ning senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes.
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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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Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.
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In buskined measures move Pale Grief and pleasing Pain, With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
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And moody madness laughing wild Amid severest woe.
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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?
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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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Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear.
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The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
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Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions date descry.
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Not all that tempts your wandering eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize Nor all that glisters gold.
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