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"The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me."

[graphic]
[graphic]

WRITTEN

IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD.

THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds,

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