More - Thomas Gray Quotes

The meanest flowret of the vale, / The simplest note that swells the gale, / The common sun, the air, and skies, / To him are opening paradise.

Thomas Gray

 

The Attic warbler pours her throat, / Responsive to the cuckoo's note.

Thomas Gray

 

Owls would have hooted in St Peter's choir,/ And foxes stunk and littered in St Paul's.

Thomas Gray

 

Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.

Thomas Gray

 English Poet Poetry

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?

Thomas Gray

 

He passed the flaming bounds of space and time: / The living throne, the sapphire-blaze, / Where angels tremble while they gaze, / He saw; but blasted with excess of light, / Closed his eyes in endless night.

Thomas Gray

 Angels

What female heart can gold despise? / What cat's averse to fish?

Thomas Gray

 Gold

Who foremost now delight to cleave / With pliant arm thy glassy wave?

Thomas Gray

 

Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast / The little tyrant of his fields withstood;/ Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, / Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.

Thomas Gray

 Breast

Sweet is the breath of vernal shower,The bee's collected treasures sweet, Sweet music's melting full, but sweeter yet. The still small voice of gratitude.

Thomas Gray