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Thomas Gray -
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Still as they run they look behind,
They hear a voice in every wind,
And snatch a fearful joy.
Sweet is the breath of vernal shower,
The bee's collected treasures sweet,
Sweet music's melting fall, but sweeter yet
The still small voice of gratitude.
Can storied urn, or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of death?
E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
E'en in our Ashes live their wonted Fires.
Quote of the day
I had rather be an oyster than a man, the most stupid and senseless of animals.
December 26, 1716
July 30, 1771
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