The Same, the Same: friend and foe are of one stuff; the ploughman, the plough, and the furrow, are of one stuff; and the stuff is... such, and so much, that the variations of form are unimportant.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind 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, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf behowls the moon;... Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, All with weary task fordone. Now the wasted brands do glow, Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, Puts the wretch that lies in woe In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night, That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite, In the church-way paths to glide:LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old, The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart..., The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould, Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »