26 quotes
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
E'en in our Ashes live their wonted Fires.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r
The moping owl does to the moon complain.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
Can storied urn, or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
(There they alike in trembling hope repose,)
The bosom of his Father and his God.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care:
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile,
The short and simple annals of the poor.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth
A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth.
And Melancholy marked him for her own.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little Tyrant of his fields withstood;
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike the inevitable hour:
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)
No further seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
There they alike in trembling hope repose),
The bosom of his Father and his God.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750)