I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: An enormous wall of stone
Stands lonely in the desert. Upon it, on its face
Half faded, a hideous visage appears, whose frown
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its painter 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 Saddam Hussein, King of Kings:
Look upon 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.
Doubt that Saddam's name will be remembered as long as the Shelly poem has been.
Ozymandias was a King, Saddam was a tin pot socialist dictator.