Thomas Gray

To each his suff'rings; all are men,
Condemn'd alike to groan;
The tender for another's pain,
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To each his suff'rings; all are men,
Condemn'd alike to groan;
The tender for another's pain,
Th' unfeeling for his own.
Yet ah! why should they know their fate,
Since sorrow never comes too late,
And happiness too swiftly flies?
Thought would destroy their paradise.

When your courtyard twists, do not pour the water abroad.

When your courtyard twists, do not pour the water abroad.

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
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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.

They hear a voice in every wind,
And snatch a fearful joy.

They hear a voice in every wind,
And snatch a fearful joy.