Ozymandias --- P.B. Shelley

Ozymandias

I met a traveller from an antique land

Who said : To 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 passion read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The land that mocked them, and the heart that fed:

And on the pedestal these word 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.