I met a traveller from an antique land <br />Who said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone <br />Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, <br />Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, <br />And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, <br />Tell that its sculptor well those passions read <br />Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, <br />The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed. <br />And on the pedestal these words appear -- <br />"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: <br />Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!" <br />Nothing beside remains. Round the decay <br />Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare <br />The lone and level sands stretch far away.'<br /><br />Percy Bysshe Shelley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ozymandias/
