And Truth Severe, By Fairy Fiction Drest.

Ah, Tell Them They Are Men!

Low On His Funeral Couch He Lies!

Chill Penury Repress'd Their Noble Rage, And Froze The Genial Current Of The Soul.

Visions Of Glory, Spare My Aching Sight! Ye Unborn Ages, Crowd Not On My Soul!

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.