Thomas Gray

Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.

Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send;
He gave read more

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send;
He gave to misery (all he had) a tear,
He gain'd from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

Thou tamer of the human breast,
Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour
The bad affright, afflict the read more

Thou tamer of the human breast,
Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour
The bad affright, afflict the best!

When iron scourge, and tort'ring hour
The bad affright, afflict the best.

When iron scourge, and tort'ring hour
The bad affright, afflict the best.