Weekly Poem #1: Percy Bysshe Shelley - Ozymandias

[Anonymous No.17322136]

I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand 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 read
Which 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 decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

[Anonymous No.17322146]

Going to post a new poem here every Monday.

[Blarty Hongo !WegkZP4tiw No.17322159]

>>17322146
A noble enterprise.

This is one of the few poems I have committed to memory.

[Anonymous No.17322180]

Where is the volta in this sonnet? After the eighth line, or after the eleventh?

[Anonymous No.17322731]

bump

[Anonymous No.17322957]

>>17322731
Say something about the poem then.

[Anonymous No.17324331]

>le art is long and le life is short