Quote

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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Thomas Gray
Age: 54 †
Born: 1716
Born: December 26
Died: 1771
Died: July 30
Literary Critic
Poet
London
England
Eyes
Staring
Peasants
Eye
Flying
Stare
Words
Thou
Aviation
Fleets
Come
Sky
Amazed
Shalt
Long
Bird
Lift
Thine
Time
Battle
Lifts
Wondrous
Watches
Birds
Aged
Watch
Drawn
Skies

More quotes by Thomas Gray

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Alas, regardless of their doom, the little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come nor care beyond today.
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Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.
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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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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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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.
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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. Yet ah! why should they know their fate, Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies? Thought would destroy their paradise. No more where ignorance is bliss, 'T is folly to be wise.
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How low, how little are the proud, How indigent the great!
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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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To each his suff'rings: all are men, / Condemn'd alike to groan, / The tender for another's pain / Th' unfeeling for his own.
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Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions date descry.
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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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Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.
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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.
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One principal characteristic of vice in the present age is the contempt of fame.
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As to posterity, I may ask what has it ever done to oblige me?
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Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor.
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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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To brisk notes in cadence beating, glance their many-twinkling feet.
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Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms.
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We frolic while 'tis May.
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