The Fatal Sisters. Line 3.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,

The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,[384:1]

The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,

And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 1.

Each in his narrow cell forever laid,

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 4.

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn.