| Lyrics: | I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone stand in
the desert.
Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And
wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions
read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the
heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of
kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains.
Round the
decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away. |
