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OZYMANDIAS
P.B. SHELLEY
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.'
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