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An E LE GY
WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH YARD.
By Mr. GRAY,
T HE Curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
1 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.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,