And waste their sweetness on the desert air.
More Quotes from Thomas Gray:
The language of the age is never the language of poetry, except among the French, whose verse, where the thought or image does not support it, differs in nothing from prose.Thomas Gray
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Thomas Gray
'Tis folly to be wise.
Thomas Gray
Low on his funeral couch he lies!
Thomas Gray
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, Heaven did a recompense as largely send He gave to mis'ry (all he had) a tear, He gained from Heav'n ('t was all he wish'd) a friend.
Thomas Gray
O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.
Thomas Gray
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