poetry 7

STANZAS FROM AN ELEGY WRITTEN IN
A COUNTRY CHURCH YARD
THOMAS GRAY:
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day
The lowing herd wind slowly'er the lea
The plowman hume ward plods  his weary way
And leaves the world to darkness and to me
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight
And all the air a solemn stillness holds
Save where the beetle wheels his droming flight
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as wandering near her secret bower
Molest her ancient solitary reign
Beneath those rugged elms that yew-tree's shade
Where heaves the tuff in many a mouldering  heap
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep
The breezy call of incense breathing morn
The swallow twittering the straw built shed
The cock's shrill clarion or the echoing horn
No more shall rouse them form their lowly bed
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
Oft did did the harvest to their sickle yield
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke

How jocund did they drive their team a field
How bow'd the woods beneath their study stroke
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
The best of heraldry the pomp of power 
And all that beauty all that wealth gave
Awaits alike the inevitable hour
The paths of glory lead but to the grave
Nor you ye proud impute to these the fault
If memory their tomb no trophies raise
Where through the long drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise
Can storied urn or animated bust 
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust
Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death?
Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire
Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre
But knowledge to their eye her ample page
Rich with the spoils of time did unroll 
Chill penury repressed their noble rage
And froze the genial current of the soul 
Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
The dark unfathom'd  caves of ocean bear
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen
And waste its sweetness on the desert air 
Some village hampden taht with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood
Some mute inglorious milton here may rest
Some cromwell guiltless of his country blood
The applause of listing senates to command 
The threats of pain and ruin to despise
To scatter plenty a smiling land
And a read their history in a nation's eyes
Their lot forbade nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues but their crimes confined
Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind 
The struggling pangs of conscious to hide
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and pride 
With incense kindled at the muse's flame
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife
Their sober wishes never learned to stray 
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life 
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.....