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THOMAS GRAY
English poet, prose writer and scholar
(1716 - 1771)
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A favourite has no friend.
      - On a Favourite Cat Drowned (st. 6)
        [Friends]

Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune,
  He had not the method of making a fortune.
      - On His Own Character [Bribery : Fortune]

What female heart can gold despise?
  What cat's averse to fish?
      - On the Death of a Favorite Cat
        [Cats : Fish : Gold]

Blasted with excess of light.
      - Progress of Poesy [Light]

In climes beyond the solar road.
      - Progress of Poesy [Sun]

Tho' he inherit
  Not the pride, nor ample pinion,
    That the Theban eagle bear,
      Sailing with supreme dominion
        Thro' the azure deep of air.
      - Progress of Poesy [Eagles]

Ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.
      - Progress of Poesy (III, 1, l. 12) [Tears]

He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time:
  The living throne, the sapphire blaze,
    Where angels tremble while they gaze,
      He saw; but blasted with excess of light,
        Closed his eyes in endless night.
      - Progress of Poesy (III, 2, l. 93) [Death]

Thoughts that breathe and words that burn.
      - Progress of Poesy (III, 3, l. 4) [Thought]

To brisk notes in cadence beating
  Glance their many-twinkling feet.
      - Progress of Poesy (pt. I, st. 3, l. 10)
        [Dancing]

To warm their little loves the birds complain.
      - Sonnet on the Death of Richard West
        [Birds]

And weep the more, because I weep in vain.
      - Sonnet--On the Death of Mr. West [Tears]

Loose his beard, and hoary hair
  Stream's, like a meteor, to the troubled air.
      - The Bard (I, 2, l. 5) [Hair]

Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,
  Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.
      - The Bard (I, 3, l. 12) [Love]

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!
  Ye unborn ages, crown not on my soul.
      - The Bard (III, 1, l. 11) [Visions]

Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,
  While proudly rising o'er the azure realm
    In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes,
      Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm.
      - The Bard (pt. II, st. 2, l. 9)
        [Youth : Zephyrs]

Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,
  Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,
    Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.
      - The Bard (st. 3) [Friends]

O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move
  The bloom of young Desire and purple light of love.
      - The Progress of Poesy (I, 3, l. 16) [Love]

From Helicon's harmonious springs
  A thousand rills their mazy progress take.
      - The Progress of Poesy (I, i, l. 3)
        [Brooks]


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