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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 mock'd 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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