The poem opens with the speaker meeting an unnamed traveler from an unnamed ancient land. While the scenario suggests an air of timelessness and mystery, it also establishes that this traveler is likely no one special, as the speaker does not think it important to identify them. Ozymandias’s monument is intended for the “mighty” to see and be jealous of, but now its only witnesses are nobodies.

The traveler first describes the most striking features of the statue still standing: two great legs, fixed upright in the sand. While the legs are massive and intimidating, they also lack any identifiable features. They could belong to anyone—likely the opposite of the effect Ozymandias was trying to achieve. The legs are “trunkless” too (Line 2)—this statue could not be reassembled. Time has completely dismantled its “human” body, not unlike the decay that afflicts corpses. At first, we even think the legs might be all that remains of the monument; Shelley bisects Line 3 with a strong pause, suggesting that the traveler saw the legs first, then a long span of sand, before finally spotting the head.

The head is half sunk in the sand, its face—the most identifying and personal feature of the body—“shattered” by time (Line 4).