Thursday, April 15, 2010

Boundless and bare

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 mocked 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.

P B Shelley (1792-1822)

Thursday, April 01, 2010

The London Stone. Image credit AlanS

In a cage like throne

There once was a London Stone,
sat in a cage like throne,
signed up to Twitter,
complained about litter,
but never his followers did groan!