Quote #24
Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
More from Thomas Gray
- Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r The moping owl does to the moon complain.
- 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 cli…
- Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,…
- Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile, The short and s…
- 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 t…
- 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 glo…
- Not all that tempts your wandering eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize; Nor all that glisters gold.
- Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.