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.