Thomas Gray ( 10 of 57 )
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!
Scatter plenty o'er a smiling land.
Scatter plenty o'er a smiling land.
To each his suff'rings; all are men,
Condemn'd alike to groan;
The tender for another's pain,
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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.
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.
Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear.
Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear.
The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast.
The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast.
Loose his beard, and hoary hair
Stream's, like a meteor, to the troubled air.
Loose his beard, and hoary hair
Stream's, like a meteor, to the troubled air.
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.
And to hie him home, at evening's close,
To sweet repast, and calm repose.
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And to hie him home, at evening's close,
To sweet repast, and calm repose.
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From toil we wins his spirits light,
From busy day the peaceful night;
Rich, from the very want of wealth,
In heaven's best treasures, peace and health.
