The Poet – Ozymandius

Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote this poem in 1818:


I met a traveler 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 Ozymandius, 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. 

In Amarillo, Texas, homage is paid: giant legs on the plains.


They have incurred “sock vandalism.”

2 thoughts on “The Poet – Ozymandius

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