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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

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Thomas Gray
Age: 54 †
Born: 1716
Born: December 26
Died: 1771
Died: July 30
Literary Critic
Poet
London
England
Eye
Sober
Ends
Contemplation
Littles
Alike
Little
Gay
Men
Began
Flutter
Life
Busy
Creep
Shall
Creeps
Race
Mortality

More quotes by Thomas Gray

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We frolic while 'tis May.
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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.
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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.
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The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
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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.
Thomas Gray
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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.
Thomas Gray
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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.
Thomas Gray
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To brisk notes in cadence beating, glance their many-twinkling feet.
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Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions date descry.
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As to posterity, I may ask what has it ever done to oblige me?
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Along the cool sequestered vale of life, They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
Thomas Gray
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O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of love.
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Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.
Thomas Gray
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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.
Thomas Gray
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When love could teach a monarch to be wise, And gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes.
Thomas Gray
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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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And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
Thomas Gray
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Scatter plenty o'er a smiling land.
Thomas Gray
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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
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The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th' inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Thomas Gray