Withering grass and falling flowers...

Ruth read a magnificent poem this evening on our "at home date night" that reminded me of the verses from Isaiah 40:6-7:
"All flesh is grass and all its beauty is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the Lord blows on it; surely the people are grass. The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever."

It was written by Percy Bysshe Shelley, who has now become one of my preferred poets. Enjoy!

Ozymandias
I met a travelller 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 those 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.