tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433414159654244319.comments2015-06-01T04:50:23.150-07:00SuperFrenemies Super Frenemieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03311206852775209299noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3433414159654244319.post-50927639114594409282015-06-01T04:50:23.150-07:002015-06-01T04:50:23.150-07:00I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: “...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, 1792 - 1822Super Frenemieshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03311206852775209299noreply@blogger.com