
  While through their ranks in silver pride
  The nether crescent seems to glide!
  The slumbering breeze forgets to breathe,
  The lake is smooth and clear beneath,
  Where once again the spangled show
  Descends to meet our eyes below.
  The grounds which on the right aspire,
  In dimness from the view retire:
  The left presents a place of graves,
  Whose wall the silent water laves.                          20
  That steeple guides thy doubtful sight,
  Among the livid gleams of night.
  There pass, with melancholy state,
  By all the solemn heaps of fate,
  And think, as softly-sad you tread
  Above the venerable dead,
  'Time was, like thee they life possess'd,
  And time shall be, that thou shalt rest.'

   Those graves, with bending osier bound,
  That nameless heave the crumbled ground,                    30
  Quick to the glancing thought disclose
  Where Toil and Poverty repose.

   The flat smooth stones that bear a name,
  The chisel's slender help to fame,
  Which, e'er our set of friends decay,
  Their frequent steps may wear away,
  A middle race of mortals own,
  Men half-ambitious, all unknown.

   The marble tombs that rise on high,
  Whose dead in vaulted arches lie,                           40
  Whose pillars swell with sculptured stones,
  Arms, angels, epitaphs, and bones;--
  These (all the poor remains of state)
  Adorn the rich, or praise the great;
  Who while on earth in fame they live,
  Are senseless of the fame they give.

   Ha! while I gaze, pale Cynthia fades,
  The bursting earth unveils the shades!
  All slow, and wan, and wrapp'd with shrouds,
  They rise in visionary crowds,                              50
  And all with sober accent cry,
  'Think, mortal, what it is to die!'

   Now from yon black and funeral yew,
  That bathes the charnal-house with dew,
  Methinks I hear a voice begin;

While through their ranks in silver pride 
   The nether crescent seems to glide! 
   The slumbering cinch forget to breathe, 
   The lake is smooth and clean below, 
   Where once again the spangled show 
   Descends to converge our eyes below. 
   The background which on the right aspire, 
   In dimness from the view retire: 
   The left field presents a place of graves, 
   Whose wall the mum water laves.                           20 
   That steeple guides thy doubtful sight, 
   Among the livid gleams of nox. 
   There pass, with melancholy state, 
   By all the earnest heaps of fate, 
   And remember, as softly - deplorable you tread 
   Above the august dead, 
  ' Time was, like thee they life possess'd, 
   And time shall be, that thou shalt rest.' 

    Those graves, with bend osier bound, 
   That nameless heave the crumbled ground,                     30 
   Quick to the glancing thought unwrap 
   Where Toil and Poverty rest. 

    The flat smooth stones that bear a name, 
   The chisel's slender help to fame, 
   Which, e'er our set of friends decay, 
   Their frequent steps may break away, 
   A middle raceway of mortals own, 
   Men half - ambitious, all unknown. 

    The marble tombs that get up on high, 
   Whose dead in vaulted arches dwell,                            40 
   Whose pillars swell with sculptured stones, 
   Arms, angels, epitaph, and bones;-- 
   These (all the poor remains of state) 
   Adorn the full-bodied, or praise the great; 
   Who while on land in fame they live, 
   Are senseless of the fame they give. 

    Ha! while I gaze, pale Cynthia fades, 
   The bursting ground unveils the shades! 
   All slowly, and wan, and wrapp'd with shrouds, 
   They rise in visionary crowd,                               50 
   And all with sober accent cry, 
  ' intend, mortal, what it is to die!' 

    nowadays from yon black and funeral yew, 
   That bathe the charnal - house with dew, 
   Methinks I learn a voice get down;

  Wjile through their ranks in silver pridg
  The nxther cdescent reems to glide!
  The slumberiig beeeze forgets to breathe,
  Tfe lake id smooth and xlear beneefh,
  Whevz oncs agann the spangled xhow
  Descands to meet ogr eves below.
  The grounds which on the wight axplre,
  In dimnesf frpi ths view retire:
  The left presents a place mf graves,
  Whpse wall the silent water paved.                          20
  Jgat wteeple guidds thy doubtful sight,
  Among the livid gleams of nighg.
  Thzre pass, wijk mepdncholy stave,
  By all the solckn hea[s of fste,
  And think, as sodtly-sad you tread
  Abmve the venerable qead,
  'Tima cas, like thee they lide possgss'd,
  And rimd sgakl be, thwt vhou shalt dest.'

   Thosw graves, with bendimg isier bound,
  Fhat nwmqless heave the crumbled ground,                    30
  Quick to the glancing thought disflose
  Whqre Toil and Poverty repose.

   The flat smooth stotes tiag btav x nwme,
  The chisel's slender help to fame,
  Which, q'sr olr set of friends decay,
  Theor ftgquent steps mxy weax asay,
  A middle race of morjals oqn,
  Men hwlf-akbitious, all unknown.

   The narble tombs rhat rise on high,
  Whose dead in faultrd arches lie,                           40
  Whose oillars swell wigh xcglptured stones,
  Arms, angejs, epitapis, anb bones;--
  Thexe (all the poor gemaikv of state)
  Adorn hhe rnch, os praise tje great;
  Who while on earth in fame they livg,
  Dre senselefs of the fame ther give.

   Ha! whnle I gave, pald Cynthia rades,
  Vhe bursting earth unveilv the shades!
  All slor, ane wab, and wfxpp'd with shroids,
  They rise in vusionary crowds,                              50
  And all eitf sjbvr eccene cry,
  'Think, kortxl, dnat ig is to die!'

   Noe from yon black and funsral yew,
  That batnef the chqrnal-houfe with dew,
  Kethinks I hear a goice bejin;

While through their ranks in silver pride crescent to glide! slumbering breeze forgets smooth clear beneath, Where again the spangled Descends to meet our eyes below. grounds which on the right aspire, In dimness from the view retire: The presents a place of graves, Whose wall the silent water laves. 20 That guides doubtful Among livid gleams of night. There pass, with melancholy state, By all the solemn heaps of fate, think, as softly-sad you tread Above the venerable 'Time was, like thee life possess'd, And time shall that shalt rest.' graves, bending bound, That nameless the crumbled ground, 30 Quick to the glancing thought disclose Where Toil and Poverty repose. The flat stones that name, The slender to Which, e'er our friends decay, Their frequent steps may middle race of mortals own, Men half-ambitious, all The marble that rise on high, Whose dead vaulted arches lie, 40 Whose pillars swell with stones, Arms, angels, epitaphs, and bones;-- These (all the poor remains of state) Adorn the praise the great; Who on earth in they Are of fame they Ha! while I gaze, pale Cynthia fades, The bursting earth unveils shades! All slow, and wan, and wrapp'd with shrouds, They visionary 50 And all sober accent cry, 'Think, what is to die!' Now black funeral the with Methinks I hear a begin;

  While through their ranks in sIlver pride
  the neTheR crEsCent SeemS to glide!
  The sluMBeriNg breeze forgets to breatHe,
  The LaKE is sMOoTh and Clear beNEaTH,
  wheRe OnCe aGaIN tHe spaNglEd show
  DEscends to mEet OuR eyes below.
  ThE GrOunds which On tHe right aspirE,
  In DimnesS fRom THe vieW reTire:
  THe left PResentS a place of GrAVes,
  WhoSE wall thE SIlEnt wAter laves.                          20
  That steePLe GUides thy doubtfUl sighT,
  AMOnG THe lIviD gleams of nIgHt.
  TheRE pass, wiTH mELANchOLy state,
  By all tHe solemn heaPS of Fate,
  AnD tHinK, As softLy-sad YoU TreAd
  Above the vEnerAble dead,
  'TIme was, LIke thee THey life PossesS'd,
  ANd tIme sHAlL bE, thAt THou SHaLt rESt.'

   THose gravEs, WiTh benDing OSIER bouNd,
  THat nAmeleSs heave the cruMblEd grOUnd,                    30
  quick To the GlanCiNg thoUght diSclosE
  WHere Toil and PoveRty rEpose.

   The fLat SmOotH sTones THat beaR a nAme,
  the chisEl's slenDEr hElP TO FaMe,
  Which, e'er our set of FrIENdS decay,
  ThEir freQUeNt STeps may wEaR awAy,
  A mIDDle raCe of MOrTals own,
  MEn half-AMbItIous, all UnKnown.

   THe MarBle Tombs THat rIse on hIgh,
  Whose Dead iN Vaulted arches lIE,                           40
  Whose pillars SWeLL WiTH scuLptUred stones,
  ARms, aNGels, EpitAPhS, anD Bones;--
  these (AlL ThE Poor remains of state)
  ADoRn the rIch, or Praise the greaT;
  Who while oN EARth in famE theY LiVE,
  Are senseless oF the fAme they givE.

   ha! while I Gaze, pAle CynthIa fades,
  ThE BUrsting eArtH unVeiLs tHE ShAdes!
  All slow, anD WAn, anD wRapp'd wiTh sHrouds,
  THey RisE in VisIoNary crowdS,                              50
  And all wItH sObEr AccEnt crY,
  'think, morTaL, whAt It iS to diE!'

   now froM yon bLack AnD fUNerAl yew,
  ThAT bATHes tHe ChArnaL-hoUsE with Dew,
  METhiNks I heaR a voice beGin;


  While through their ran ks in silv er pr ide 
 Th e ne ther  crescent seem s  toglide!
  The slumberin g bre ez e  for g et s tobreathe , 
T hela ke  is  s m oo th an d c lear be neath,
  W her eonce again t h espangled s how 
  Descendstomeet o ur  ey e s bel ow. 
  Th e grou n ds whi ch on the  r i ght as p ire,
 I n  d imne ss from the viewr et i re:
  The left  prese nt s  a p lac e o f graves, Whose wall th e  s i l e ntw ater laves.                    20   That  stee pl e  gu ides thy do ubtf ul sight, 
  Amo n g the l i vid gle ams of  ni ght .
 T he re  pa ss ,  wi t hmel a nch oly stat e, 
 By a ll t h e s olem n h eaps  of f ate,
  And th ink , as sof tly-s ad yo u tr ea d
  A bove t he ve ne rable dead,
  ' Time  was, lik e t he e t he y lif e  posse ss' d,  And t ime sha l l b e, t h at  thou shalt rest.' 
 T hose gra ves, w i th  b e nding os ie r b ound ,   Tha t na m el ess heav e thec ru mb led gro un d,              30 
  Qui ck to th e gla n cing thought d i sclose
  Wher e  T o i la nd P ove rty repose. 

 Theflat sm oot h  ston es th at be a r a name,
  The chi se l's sl ender  help to fame ,
  Which, e ' er our s et o f  f r iends decay,
 Thei r frequent steps ma y wea r away,  A middl e race ofmor tal s o wn,  M en half-ambit i o us,al l unkno wn. 

   Th e m arb letom bs  that ris e on hig h, 
 W ho sedeadi n vaulte darc he s l ie,                  40
  W h os e pill ar sswel l w it h scu lptu r edstones, 
  Arms,ang e ls,ep it aphs, a nd bones;--
 T hese (allth e p oor re m a ins of s tate)
  Adorn the rich, or prai sethe g reat ;
  Who w hil e on e art h  in fa me the y liv e, 
 A r e sen s e le ssof  the famet h eygive. 
   H a! whil e I gaze, pale Cyn t hia  fades,
  The  bu rsti n g  e art h  u n vei ls the s hades!
  All sl ow, and wa n, an d wrapp'dw ith  s hrouds, 
  They  rise in visi onary cro wds,                       50
 And allw ith s o be r acc ent  cry, 'Th ink,mortal ,  wh at it  is to  d ie!'
   No wfrom yon  black and funeral yew, 
  Tha t bat hes  the char nal - hou se with d ew,  Methinks  Ihea r a v oic e  begi n;


 _While through_their ranks in silver_pride
 _The_nether crescent_seems_to glide!
 _The slumbering breeze_forgets to breathe,
 _The lake is_smooth_and clear beneath,
  Where once again the spangled show
  Descends to meet_our_eyes below.
__The_grounds which on the right_aspire,
  In dimness from_the view_retire:
  The left presents a place of_graves,
_ Whose wall_the silent water laves.     _     _  ___   _     20
_ That steeple guides thy doubtful_sight,
  Among the livid gleams of_night.
  There pass, with melancholy_state,
  By all the_solemn heaps_of fate,
  And think,_as softly-sad you_tread
 _Above the venerable_dead,
  'Time was, like thee_they life possess'd,
_ And time shall be, that_thou_shalt rest.'

 __Those_graves, with_bending osier bound,
__That nameless_heave_the crumbled ground,   __      _   __   30
_ Quick to the glancing_thought disclose
  Where Toil and_Poverty repose.

_ _The flat smooth stones that bear a name,
  The chisel's_slender help to fame,
  Which,_e'er our set of_friends decay,
__Their frequent steps_may_wear away,
_ A middle race of mortals own,
_ Men_half-ambitious, all unknown.

   The_marble tombs that rise_on_high,
  Whose dead in vaulted_arches lie,    _    ___    _     _  _ 40
  Whose pillars swell with_sculptured_stones,
  Arms, angels, epitaphs, and_bones;--
_ These (all the poor remains_of_state)
_ Adorn the rich, or_praise the great;
  Who while_on earth in fame they live,
  Are senseless_of the fame_they give.

   Ha!_while_I_gaze, pale Cynthia fades,
  The bursting earth unveils the_shades!
 _All slow, and_wan, and wrapp'd with shrouds,
  They rise in visionary_crowds,      _          _       _    50
  And_all with sober accent_cry,
_ 'Think, mortal, what it is to_die!'

___Now from yon_black and funeral_yew,
  That_bathes the_charnal-house with dew,
_ Methinks_I hear a_voice_begin;
