Elegy

Thomas Gray. 17161771|
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453. Elegy written in a artless Churchyard|
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THE Curfew tolls the knell of parting day,|  |
  The lowing herd wind tardily oer the lea,|  |
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,|  |
  And leaves the world to unfairness and to me.|  |
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Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,|          5|
  And all(a) the air a solemn stillness holds,|  |
Save where the mallet wheels his droning flight,|  |
  And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;|  |
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Save that from yon ivy-mantled towr|  |
  The moping owl does to the moon complain|   10|
Of such as, wandring nestle her secret bowr,|  |
  Molest her ancient solitary reign.|  |
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Beneath those wiped out(p) elms, that yew-trees shade,|  |
  Where heaves the turf in many a mouldring heap,|  |
each(prenominal) in his narrow cell for ever laid,|   15|
  The crude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.|  |
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The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn,|  |
  The swallow twittring from the straw-built shed,|  |
The cocks shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,|  |
  No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.



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For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,|  |
  Or in use(p) housewife ply her evening care:|  |
No children wreak to lisp their sires return,|  |
  Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.|  |
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Oft did the harvest-time to their sickle yield,|   25|
  Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has bust:|  |
How jocund did they drive their team afield!|  |
  How bowd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!|  |
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Let not Ambition fling their useful toil,|  |
  Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;|   30|
Nor magnanimousness hear with a disdainful smile|  |
  The short and easy annals of the poor.|  |
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The boast of heraldry, the pomp of powr,|  |
  And all that beauty, all that wealth eer gave,|  |
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