Thomas Gray

From Helicon's harmonious springs
A thousand rills their mazy progress take.

From Helicon's harmonious springs
A thousand rills their mazy progress take.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife.

Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.

Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.

There scatter'd oft the earliest of ye Year
By Hands unseen are showers of Vi'lets found;
The read more

There scatter'd oft the earliest of ye Year
By Hands unseen are showers of Vi'lets found;
The Redbreast loves to build and warble there,
And little Footsteps lightly print the ground.

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.