E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
Thomas Gray (1716 - 1771)
Source: Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 23.
Contributed by: Zaady
Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Source: Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 4.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray; Along the cool sequester'd vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Source: Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 19.
Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor.
Source: Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 8.
Rich windows that exclude the light, And passages that lead to nothing.
Source: A Long Story.
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?
Source: Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 11.
And hie him home, at evening's close, To sweet repast and calm repose.
Source: Ode on the Pleasure Arising from Vicissitude. Line 87.
The hues of bliss more brightly glow, Chastised by sabler tints of woe.
Source: Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude. Line 45.
One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree: Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.
Source: Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 28.
Ruin seize thee, ruthless king! Confusion on thy banners wait! Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing, They mock the air with idle state.
Source: The Bard. I. 1, Line 1.
Copyright © 2014 Gaiam, Inc.