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• The breezy call of incense-breathing morn.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- Elegy in a Country Churchyard, Stanza 5...
• And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- Elegy in a Country Churchyard, Stanza 21...
• Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- Elegy in a Country Churchyard, Stanza 25...
• Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- Elegy in a Country Churchyard, Stanza 4...
• E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- Elegy in a Country Churchyard, Stanza 23...
• Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- Elegy in a Country Churchyard, Stanza 17...
• Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- Elegy in a Country Churchyard, Stanza 12...
• Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- Elegy in a Country Churchyard, Stanza 8...
• Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
  -- Thomas Gray (1716-1771) -- Elegy in a Country Churchyard, Stanza 10...