I met a traveller from an antique land,Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stoneStand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,Half sunk a shattered 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 the 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.
>>23545810Imagine doing poem tennis with a friend and offhandedly writing a a ditzy which later defines your name, is immortalized for generations, and is taught as a landmark poem in the English language.
>>23545821>a a ditzyhuh?
>>23545826Oops, meant ditty.
>>23545821>poem tenniswhat's that? sounds fun
>>23545852> At this time, members of the Shelleys' literary circle would sometimes challenge each other to write competing sonnets on a common subject: Shelley, John Keats and Leigh Hunt wrote competing sonnets about the Nile around the same time. Shelley and [Horace] Smith both chose a passage from the writings of the Greek historian Diodorus Siculus, which described a massive Egyptian statue and quoted its inscription…Horace Smith’s alternate version of Ozymandias is also one of the more famous works to his name.
bumpp
>>23545810That's clearly a head and not two trunkless legs
>>23545810Yup, Breaking Bad is too good
>>23545810>Lift not the painted veil which those who liveCall Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there,And it but mimic all we would believeWith colours idly spread,—behind, lurk FearAnd Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weaveTheir shadows, o'er the chasm, sightless and drear.I knew one who had lifted it—he sought,For his lost heart was tender, things to love,But found them not, alas! nor was there aughtThe world contains, the which he could approve.Through the unheeding many he did move,A splendour among shadows, a bright blotUpon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that stroveFor truth, and like the Preacher found it not.
>>23545810I went on a trip to Rome a few weeks ago and had this poem in mind at the Capitoline Museums when I saw the remains and the reconstructed colossus of Constantine. Impressive.
