Ozymandias

Abstract

I met a traveler from an antique landWho said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stoneStand in the desert….Near them, on the sand,Half sunk, a visage lies, whose frown,And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,Tell that its sculptor well those passions readWhich yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,The hand that mocked them, and heart that fed;And on the pedestal these words appear:"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"Nothing beside remains. Round the decayOf that colossal wreck, boundless and bareThe lone and level sands stretch far away. Percy Bysshe ShelleyRosalind and Helen, A Modern Eclogue; With Other PoemsLondon: Hollinger. p. 72 (1876) This poem is in the public domain.