165 Quotes by Thomas Gray

Scatter plenty o'er a smiling land.

Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed, Less pleasing when possest; The tear forgot as soon as shed, The sunshine of the breast.

Along the cool sequestered vale of life, They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.

O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of love.

Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.

Thought would destroy their paradise.

Here rests his head upon the lap of earth, A youth to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.

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

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. No more; where ignorance is bliss, 'T is folly to be wise.