Thomas Gray

The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the read more

The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are open paradise.

Loose his beard, and hoary hair
Stream's, like a meteor, to the troubled air.

Loose his beard, and hoary hair
Stream's, like a meteor, to the troubled air.

In climes beyond the solar road.

In climes beyond the solar road.

The Attic warbler pours her throat
Responsive to the cuckoo's note.

The Attic warbler pours her throat
Responsive to the cuckoo's note.

Yet ah! why should they know their fate?Since sorrow never comes too late,And happiness too swiftly flies.Thought would destroy their read more

Yet ah! why should they know their fate?Since sorrow never comes too late,And happiness too swiftly flies.Thought would destroy their paradise.No more; where ignorance is bliss,'Tis folly to be wise. - Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College.