Thomas Gray ( 10 of 57 )
To warm their little loves the birds complain.
To warm their little loves the birds complain.
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
A favorite has no friend!
A favorite has no friend!
Not all that tempts your wandering eyes
And heedless hearts is lawful prize,
Not all that glisters read more
Not all that tempts your wandering eyes
And heedless hearts is lawful prize,
Not all that glisters gold.
Scatter plenty o'er a smiling land.
Scatter plenty o'er a smiling land.
Alas! regardless of their doom,
The little victims play;
No sense have they of ills to come,
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Alas! regardless of their doom,
The little victims play;
No sense have they of ills to come,
Nor care beyond to-day.
There scatter'd oft the earliest of ye Year
By Hands unseen are showers of Vi'lets found;
The read more
There scatter'd oft the earliest of ye Year
By Hands unseen are showers of Vi'lets found;
The Redbreast loves to build and warble there,
And little Footsteps lightly print the ground.
And weep the more, because I weep in vain.
And weep the more, because I weep in vain.
Grim-visaged, comfortless despair.
Grim-visaged, comfortless despair.
E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
