165 Quotes by Thomas Gray

The Attic warbler pours her throat, Responsive to the cuckoo’s note, The untaught harmony of spring.

T’was Spring, t’was Summer, all was gay Now Autumn bears a cloud brow The flowers of Spring are swept way And Summer fruits desert the bough.

Hands that the rod of empire might have sway’d, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.

Sorrow’s faded form, and solitude behind.

And hie him home, at evening’s close, To sweet repast and calm repose.

From Helicon’s harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take.

He pass’d the flaming bounds of place 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.

Scatter plenty o’er a smiling land.

We frolic while ’tis May.