Sunday 9 October 2005 11.02pm
[Grays Elegy in a Country Churchyard
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Awaits alike th'inevitable hour,
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Can storied urn, or animated bust,
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death?
Full many a gem
of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear,
Full many a flower
is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Edited 1 times. Last edit at 9 October 2005 11.06pm by phoney.