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I met a [traveller from an antique land] Who said: [Two vast and trunkless legs] Stand in the [desert. Near them on the sand] Half sunk, [a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown] And wrinkled lip [and sneer of cold command] Tell that its sculptor [well those passions read] Which yet survive, [stamp'd on these lifeless things] The hand that [mock'd 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]..
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