dead Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,' Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. |
dead Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,' Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. |