John Milton

From morn to noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, a summer’s day; and with the setting sun dropped from the zenith like a falling star.

From morn to noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, a summer’s day; and with the setting sun dropped from the zenith like a falling star.

– John Milton –

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Percy Bysshe Shelley

Ozymandias”I met a traveller from an antique landWho said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stoneStand in the desert. Near them on the sand,Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frownAnd wrinkled lip and sneer of cold commandTell that its sculptor well those passions readWhich 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 decayOf that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,The lone and level sands stretch far away.

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