Elegy in a churchyard wandering

just a couple of stanzas of Gray's Elegy 
BY THOMAS GRAY
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 the world to darkness and to me. 



Now fades the glimm'ring landscape on the sight, 

         And all the air a solemn stillness holds, 

Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, 

         And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds; 



Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r 

         The moping owl does to the moon complain 

Of such, as wand'ring near her secret bow'r, 

         Molest her ancient solitary reign.