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."   

 -- Percy Bysshe Shelley