Introduction

The poem O Captain! My Captain, written by Walt Whitman (1865) consists of 3 stanzas. It was published in his
work Leaves of Grass. It is a symbolic poem in which Captain refers to Abraham Lincoln and the Ship refers to the
USA. The poem describes the victory of the Union after the end of the Civil War and also the assassination of
Abraham Lincoln.
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
In the first stanza, Whitman calls upon the Captain (Lincoln) of the Ship (USA) that ‘fearful trip’ (dreadful Civil War)
has come to an end. The people have won the victory at last, which they quested for i.e. the victory of the union.
Poet tells the captain that port (home) is very near and now he can hear the sound of temple bells and the cries of
the enthusiastic people who are eagerly waiting for him. The enthusiasm increases as the ship reach near the port.
Keel has been thrown off the ship so as to keep ship stable. In the next lines, this enthusiasm is replaced by gloom.
The captain is dead now and blood is oozing from his body. This makes the poet exclaim ‘O heart! Heart!
Heart!’ The captain, who was supposed to be praised by the people for his peerless bravery is now lifeless and
motionless.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up–for you the flag is flung–for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths–for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
In the second stanza, Whitman tries to talk to the Captain, who, he knows well, is dead. This technique of talking to
the dead is called apostrophe.
The poet asks the captain to rise up as for him, bells are being rung, flags are being hoisted, musical instruments are
being rung, flowers are being curled etc.
The people are eagerly waiting for his arrival, but he is dead now. It should be noted that the captain is dead now
and hence these ceremonies are of his funeral.
The poet goes in reminiscence and tries to consider this death to be fancy but at last, he has to believe that Captain
is dead. Poet calls him father because, for him, Lincoln is not just a military leader but the father of the nation and
laments over his loss.
Stanza 3
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
In the 3rd stanza, we find the duality of emotions. Whitman experiences the euphoria of their victory but at the same
time laments over the death of Lincoln, which is a big loss for the nation.
The poet says that now the captain is dead. His lips are pale. He can neither feel the arms of the poet not his heart is
beating.
It is such a time when the ship has arrived at its destination. The ‘fearful trip’ i.e. horrors of the Civil War is over now
and there is relief among the people. People are rejoicing but the poet is mourning over the death of Lincoln.
The ‘deck’ here refers to the cemetery of Lincoln. Poet, moving around this place, laments over his death. Hence the
poem ends with both victories as well as loss
Thomas Gray, “Elegy written in a country churchyard”: traduzione e commento
Introduzione
Considerato tra i più grandi studiosi europei, Thomas Gray nasce a Londra nel 1716 e poi completa i propri studi
a Eton 1 insieme a Horace Walpole (1717-1797), in compagnia del quale Gray completa il Grand Tour 2. Thomas Gray
si laurea in seguito a Cambridge dove diviene professore di Storia Moderna nel 1768, dedicandosi agli studi e alla
ricerca. Gray trascorse molte estati in Scozia e nella regione del Lake District, nel nord-ovest dell’Inghilterra, una
zona che diverrà famosa soprattutto grazie a William Wordsworth (1770-1850), Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)
e i “poeti laghisti”. Tra le altre opere di Gray, possiamo citare l’ode pindarica The progress of poesy (1754), Il
bardo (1757) e La discesa di Odino (1761).
La poetica di Gray si presenta sotto un duplice aspetto: da un lato si basa su uno stile molto raffinato e ricercato, da
studioso accademico quale egli era, riscontrabile in opere come Ode on a distant prospect of Eton College (1742);
dall’altro celebra, con toni sentimentali e patetici che preannunciano il Romanticismo, la vita e la morte di ignoti
sepolti in un cimitero di campagna, come nell’Elegy written in a country churchyard (Elegia scritta in un cimitero
campestre, 1751), che è anche il suo poema più noto e amato e che ebbe un immediato successo, contribuendo
all’affermazione su scala europea della poesia sepolcrale. Con “poesia sepolcrale” si intende un genere
poetico diffusosi a cavallo tra XVIII e XIX secolo il cui tema privilegiato è la “meditazione sulla morte” e il cui tono
prevalente è quello della commiserazione nostalgico-malinconica per il tempo che scorre inesorabile o per le
persone amate che non ci sono più. Il genere, assai vicino alla sensibilità romantica e allo sviluppo di riflessioni intime
ed autobiografiche, ha tra i suoi precursori Thomas Parnell (1679-1718), che compone il Canto notturno sulla
morte (A Night-piece on Death) e Edward Young (1683-1765), che compone il poema Complaints. Night thoughts on
Life, Death and Immortality tra 1742 e 1745. In Italia, tipici della sensibilità “sepolcrale” sono I cimiteri (1806)
di Ippolito Pindemonte (1753-1828) e ovviamente il carme Dei Sepolcri di Ugo Foscolo (1778-1827).

This is one of the best-known and loved poems in the English language and it perfectly
exemplifies the forthcoming Romantic sensibility. This is shown in the peculiar unclassical
setting of the elegy: not a great family or court cemetery but a poor country one; not
decorated marble urns but simple wooden crosses. Pre-Romantic sensibility also shows in
the way Gray handles his theme: the dead he laments are not great powerful people,
famous heroes or kings, but simple people and village craftsmen. These poor, insignificant
people who lie dead in the churchyard are now equal to the most famous men of all
times: death comes to all men and worldly ambition and success are vain illusions. This
leads the poet on to the reflection that perhaps some of these poor, unimportant people
might have become famous if they had not been limited by their circumstances. Notice
how, on the other hand, the language and form of the elegy belong to the neoclassical
tradition. The poem is divided into four-line stanzas made up of regular iambic
pentameters (ten-syllable lines). The first and most significant stanzas are given here.

L’Elegy, composta probabilmente per ricordare la morte dell’amico Richard West nel 1742, si apre
sulla contemplazione di un piccolo cimitero di campagna al crepuscolo - probabilmente quello di Stoke Poges, nel
Buckinghamshire - che porta Gray a riflettere sui morti che vi sono sepolti (vv. 1-12). Gray, nella calma del giorno che
muore, ascolta il verso di un gufo (vv. 9-12: “Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower | the moping owl does to the
moon complain | of such, as wandering near her secret bower, | molest her ancient solitary reign”), che introduce
alla tematica sepolcrale, proiettata sullo sfondo di una campagna silenziosa e inviolata. Queste le prime quattro
stanze del testo:
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;
save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
the moping owl does to the moon complain
of such, as wandering near her secret bower,
molest her ancient solitary reign.
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.
La campana batte il rintocco del crepuscolo,
la mandria che muggisce si stende lentamente sul prato,
il contadino cammina stancamente verso casa,
e lascia all’oscurità e a me il mondo.
Ora il luccicante paesaggio svanisce alla vista,
e tutta l’aria mantiene una solenne fissità,
tranne dove vola ronzando qualche insetto,
e sonnolenti campanacci cullano i greggi lontani;
tranne dove, dalla torre coperta di edera laggiù,
il gufo avvilito si lamenta con la luna
di chi, vagando vicino al suo segreto nido,
molesta il suo regno antico e solitario.
Sotto quei robusti olmi, quell’ombra dei tassi,
dove il terreno si solleva in cumuli marcescenti,
ognuno giace per sempre nella sua stretta cella,
dormono i rozzi antenati del borgo.

Nei versi successivi (vv. 13-28) il poeta focalizza, attraverso le tombe, il significato della morte per la gente
semplice (v. 16: “the rude forefathers”) che abita quel borgo rurale in comunione con la Natura. Al contrario, le
stanze seguenti descrivono per opposizione la vita in terra dei ricchi e dei potenti (vv. 29-44): tutti il loro potere sarà
vanificato dalla morte, e quindi è inutile per Gray ostentare la propria ricchezza (ad esempio, con sfarzosi
monumenti funebri) o - peggio ancora - farsi gioco della gente più semplice e modesta. Come si dice ai vv. 33-36:

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, Il vanto dell’araldica, lo sfarzo del potere,
and all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, e tutta quella bellezza, tutta quella ricchezza donate,
awaits alike the inevitable hour. aspettano allo stesso modo l’ora inevitabile.
The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Il sentiero della gloria conduce soltanto alla tomba.

Tutti i beni terreni (la nobiltà, il potere, la bellezza esteriore, i beni accumulati) sono dunque inutili e illusori. Il tema
della sostanziale uguaglianza degli uomini è riaffermato anche poco più avanti (vv. 45-76), dove Gray sviluppa il
ragionamento per cui molti degli ignoti sepolti nel cimitero campestre davanti ai suoi occhi avrebbero potuto
diventare famosi, nel bene o nel male, se non fossero stati limitati dalle circostanze di una nascita in un ambiente
povero e sottosviluppato (vv. 59-60: “Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest | Some Cromwell guiltless of his
country's blood”). Il concetto, senz’altro innovativo per un intellettuale dell’epoca, apre la seconda parte dell’Elegia,
dove Gray sviluppa in particolar modo gli aspetti sentimentali e patetici del sepolcro: la contemplazione delle umili
e grezze tombe dei contadini del borgo (vv. 77-92) suggerisce al poeta l’immagine che il morto chiede a chi è di
passaggio almeno una lacrima o un sospiro per il suo destino. L’affetto per il defunto trova nella tomba un punto di
riferimento ideale, mentre da essa si alza la voce della Natura. Gray aggiunge poi (vv. 93-116) la vicenda di un uomo
dalla testa canuta (v. 97: “some hoary-headed swain”) che prima di morire era solito vagare per quelle terre e che
può essere inteso come una controfigura del poeta stesso.
L’Elegia si chiude con un Epitaffio di tre stanze (vv. 117-128) che descrive la tomba del poeta, sulla quale il narratore
sta meditando. Qui si spiega che il poeta era giovane e sconosciuto (v. 118: “a youth to fortune and to fame
unknown”), afflitto dalla malinconia ma dall’animo buono e sincero, che ha trovato nella morte un amico:

Here rests his head upon the lap of earth
a youth to fortune and to fame unknown.
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
and Melancholy marked him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
heaven did a recompense as largely send:
he gave to Misery all he had, a tear,
he gained from Heaven ('twas all he wished) a
friend.
Qui giace la sua testa sotto un cumulo di terra,
una gioventù ignota alla fortuna e alla fama.
la buona Scienza non ha coronato la sua umile nascita,
e la Malinconia lo ha invece segnato.
La sua bontà era vasta, e la sua anima sincera,
il cielo gli ha dato un’adeguata ricompensa:
egli ha dato alla Miseria tutto ciò che aveva, una lacrima,
ha avuto in dono dal Cielo (era tutto ciò in cui sperava) un
amico.
No farther seek his merits to disclose, Non provare a svelare oltre i suoi meriti,
or draw his frailties from their dread abode, o di tirar fuori le sue fragilità dalla loro temuta dimora,
(there they alike in trembling hope repose) (là esse riposano con speranza e tremito)
the bosom of his Father and his God. e cioè il petto del suo Padre e del suo Dio.

Stile e metrica
Nonostante le tematiche di stampo pre-romantico, lo stile di Gray è sicuramente molto classico e trae molti spunti
dalla tradizione, in accordo con la convinzione del poeta stesso per cui “the language of the age is never the
language of poetry” 4. Nonostante il titolo, la forma non è propriamente quella dell’elegia (che identifica un
componimento in distici di tematica triste o malinconica e magari commemora un affetto caro, come nel carme 101
di Catullo) ma piuttosto quella dell’ode. Del modello dell’elegia si riprende allora più che la struttura il concetto
della riflessione sulla morte e sul significato della condizione umana. L’Elegia scritta in un cimitero campestre è
composta in heroic quatrains, ovvero quartine in pentametro giambico 5 a rima alternata ABAB.
1
La più famosa e prestigiosa scuola del Regno Unito.
2
Il Grand Tour era un lungo viaggio d’istruzione effettuato dai ricchi giovani dell’aristocrazia europea che volevano
perfezionare la propria educazione. Entrò in voga dal XVII secolo e si chiamava Tour poiché partenza e arrivo erano
in una medesima città. I giovani si spostavano a piedi, o al massimo a cavallo, soli, nel corso di diversi mesi. I luoghi
privilegiati del Grand Tour erano Italia e Grecia, considerate le “culle” della cultura classica.
3
Ad esempio, Young nei suoi Night thoughts insiste, secondo una prospettiva religiosa, sulla consolazione assicurata
dalla fede nell’aldilà.
4
Traduzione: “Il linguaggio dell’epoca non è mai il linguaggio della poesia”; Gray lo afferma in una lettera a Richard
West.
5
Un giambo è una coppia di sillabe composta da una sillaba non accentata seguita da una sillaba accentata, e
il pentametro giambico (ovvero un verso di cinque giambi, per un totale di dieci sillabe) è la struttura più comune in
inglese, resa celebre soprattutto dai sonetti shakespeariani.
 “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard” Summary
o The church's evening bell signals that the day is ending. The mooing cows travel slowly across the grass and a
tired farmer trudges home, leaving the world and I are together in the darkness.
Now the land around me is glowing in the sunset but also fading away as I look at it. There's a seriousness
stillness hanging in the air, apart from the buzz of a flying beetle and the tinkling of the sheep's bells, which
is like their bedtime music.
The air is still apart from that tower over there, covered with ivy, where a sad owl is complaining to the
moon about anything that, wandering around her secret nest in the tower, disturbs her longstanding, lonely
rule over the area.
Underneath those burly elm trees and the shade of that yew tree, there are mounds of moldy dirt: each
laying in a narrow room forever, the uneducated founders of this tiny village sleep.
The sound of the scented breezes of morning, the swallow singing in a shed made of straw, the rooster's
sharp cry, or the echoes of a hunter's horn—these sounds will no longer wake the dead from their humble
resting places.
The fireplace will no longer burn brightly for these dead people, nor will with their busy wives work in the
evening to take care of them. Their children no longer will run over to celebrate when their father has come
home from work for the evening, or climb on his lap to get to be the first to get a kiss.
When they were alive, these people often harvested crops with their farm implements. They often plowed
up difficult ground. How cheerfully they drove their farm animals over the field as their plowed! How
confidently they chopped down trees, which seems to bow as they fell beneath the strokes of the ax!
Don't let ideas about ambition push you to make fun of the useful work these country folk did. Don't make
fun of their plain and simple joys, their unknown lives. Don't let feelings of superiority make you smile
scornfully at the short and simple biographies of poor people.
The bragging implied by a rich family's coat of arms; the frills and traditions of the powerful; all the things
that beauty and wealth can give someone—death waits for all these things. Even the most glorious lives still
end in death.
And you, you proud people, don't blame the poor if no memorials are erected on their graves as ornaments
that outline their achievements in life; or if they don't have a tomb with a long hallway and a vaulted ceiling
illustrated with all their accomplishments, echoing with the sounds of mourners singing the praises of the
dead.
Can an urn decorated with events from the dead person's life, or a life-like sculpture of their head, call the
dead person's breath back into their body? Can honor bring their decaying body back to life? Can flattery
convince death not to come for someone?
Maybe in this unkempt patch of ground is buried someone who was once passionately filled with heavenly
fire. Maybe someone is buried here who could have ruled an empire or brought music and poetry to new
heights.
But they couldn't read or get an education, meaning they were never able to learn about history. Cold
poverty held back their inspiration and froze the creative parts of their minds.
Many gems that give off the most beautiful light are buried in dark, unexplored caves in the ocean. Many
flowers bloom unseen by anyone, wasting their beauty and scent on a deserted place.
Some villager here could have been like the politician John Hampden (who fought for the people's rights
against an authoritarian king)—except on a much smaller scale, fearlessly standing up to the landlord who
owned the fields he worked. Someone here might have been a silent, fame-less John Milton (the renowned
Renaissance poet who wrote Paradise Lost) because he never learned to write. Someone could have been
like the English dictator Oliver Cromwell, but because he was poor and powerless he never had the chance
to ruthlessly kill all the English people that Cromwell did.
The ability to have the senate applaud you; the ability to scoff at the dangers of suffering and defeat; the
chance to spread wealth throughout a happy country; the chance to live a life so influential that one's
biography is reflected in an entire nation...
All these things were prevented by these people's poverty. Not only did poverty prevent them from
developing their talents, but it also prevented them from committing any atrocities. It prevented them from
killing countless people in order to gain power, and in the process giving up on any sense of human rights.
Poverty means that these people never had to hide their guilt after committing such acts, repressing their
own shame. They never had to honor the rich and proud as if honoring gods with poetry.
Far away from the crazed, immoral conflicts of the rich and powerful, these poor people only had simple,
serious desires. In this calm and isolated valley of life, they stuck to their own quiet ways.
 Yet, to protect even these poor people's bones from total disrespect, a meager memorial has been built
nearby. It has poorly written rhymes and a poorly made sculpture, but it still makes passing visitors sigh.
These people's names, the years they were alive—all carved by someone who was illiterate—stand in place
of fame and a lengthy commemoration. Many quotes from the Bible are scattered around the
graveyard, quotes that teach unrefined yet good-hearted people how to die.
After all, what kind of person, knowing full well they'd be forgotten after death, ever gave up this pleasant
and troublesome life—ever left the warm areas of a happy day—without looking back and wanting to stay a
little longer?
A dying person relies on the heart of some close friend, leaning against their chest—they need that person
to shed some reverent tears as they die. Even from the tomb nature cries out, even in our dead bodies the
habitual passions of the poor still burn.
You, who have been thinking about those who died anonymously, have been telling their unpretentious
story in this poem. If by chance, and because of lonely thoughts, someone similar to you asks about what
happened to you—
—maybe luckily enough some old country person will answer them: "We saw him at sunrise a lot, his quick
footsteps sweeping the dew off the grass as he went to see the sun from the town's higher fields.
"Over there, at the base of that swaying beech tree with old, gnarled roots and high, tangled branches, he
would lay down and noon and stretch out his tired body, gazing into the nearby brook.
"Close to that forest over there, smiling as if with disapproval, talking to himself about his own stubborn
fantasies, he would explore—sometimes moping, sad and pale, like a miserable person; other times gone
crazy with worry, disturbed by unrequited love.
"One morning I didn't see him on his usual hill, near the rough fields and his favorite tree. Another morning
came, and I didn't see him by the stream or field or forest.
"The third morning, with funeral songs and a sad procession, we saw him carried slowly along the path to
church. Go up and read (since you can read) the poem carved on the gravestone under that old, gnarled
tree."
THE SPEAKER'S EPITAPH:
Here, resting his head in the dirt, lies a young man that had neither wealth nor fame. He had no education
because he was born to common people. His life was defined by sadness.
Even so, he had great gifts and an earnest mind. Heaven repaid him in plenty for these gifts and his
suffering. He gave all he had to his misery, which was a single tear. In return, Heaven gave him the only
thing he'd ever wanted: a friend.
Don't try anymore to talk about his strengths and gifts, or to bring his weakness back from the dead. Both
his strengths and weakness lie in the grave in a state of quivering hope. He is now with his Father, God.

 “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard” Themes

The Inevitability of Death
The main idea of “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard” is a simple one: everybody dies. Sitting in a
graveyard as the sun begins to set, the speaker mulls over the fact that death is universal. He thinks about
the many kinds of lives that death cuts short, emphasizing the fact no amount of wealth, power, or fame can
save people from death. At the heart of the poem, then, is the blunt fact that death comes for everyone: the
rich, the poor, and the speaker himself.
Since an “elegy” is a poem written to lament someone’s death, the poem's title signals its themes right away.
This elegy, it becomes clear soon enough, is for everyone who is buried in the “Country Churchyard,” the
graveyard attached to a rural church. It’s also for everyone who will be buried there—which includes the
speaker himself! In fact, the poem might as well be for all mortals, for whom the poem reminds readers
death is inevitable.
This is a bleak sentiment to be sure, and the darkness that descends over the churchyard captures this sense
of looming, inescapable mortality. Church bells signal the "parting day," leaving the speaker alone as night
falls. Standing in the graveyard as the light fades, the speaker sees death everywhere, as if it suddenly
envelops the world itself.
Contemplating the humble graves all around him, the speaker is further struck by the fact that people die
whether they’re rich or poor. The graves in this churchyard might look like moldy mounds of dirt, but, the
speaker insists, it's not like a rich person’s more beautiful grave would somehow call them back from the
dead!
The speaker reflects on the elaborate burials of the rich and powerful in order to hammer home the fact that
death is universal. Some people may have “trophies” on their tombs, “urn[s]” and “bust[s]” that represent all
their accomplishments, yet these things cannot “call the fleeting breath” back into the dead person’s body.
The “dull cold ear of Death” doesn’t listen to “praise” for the dead person; even fame and "glory" can’t
defeat death, and when someone dies, the speaker implies, they’re dead for good.
The speaker even describes his own death, imaging how he will be buried “beneath yon aged thorn,” under
an old tree. The poem in fact ends with the speaker’s imagined epitaph! From the gloomy omens at the
beginning to the speaker’s demise at its end, then, the poem is saturated with death—universal,
inescapable, and final.

The Value of Commemorating the Dead

The speaker insists that death is universal and final—that it comes for everyone and can't be undone. At the
same time, however, the poem speaks to the value of honoring, remembering, or even just imagining the
lives of the dead. Doing so, the poem suggests, is a meaningful act of memorial for those whom the rest of
the world, and history itself, has forgotten. What's more, the poem implies that such acts of
commemoration may be a way to help people confront their own mortality. Memorializing the dead thus
also helps the living.
The people buried in the churchyard don’t have elaborate memorials. The speaker describes their graves as
“moldering heap[s],” mounds of dirt without the ostentatious decorations of rich people's marble tombs. At
most, their graves have their names and the years they were alive.
Still, their simple graves have a profound effect on the speaker, who starts imagining what kinds of live these
people might have led. He imagines them woken by the call of a rooster. He pictures them “[driving] their
team” of oxen over the land, cheerful as they plow the soil. He speculates that one of them may have stood
up to “the little tyrant of his fields” (i.e., a greedy landlord). In contemplating the lives of these people, he
honors them. He sees their lives as full of meaning and authentic emotion. And this, in turn, illustrates the
profound effect that even the simplest traces of the dead can have on the living.
These simple gravestones also lead people to contemplate their own deaths. The speaker describes how
simple rural people often have poetry or Bible verses ("many a holy text") carved on their graves in order to
"teach the rustic moralist to die." In other words, people like to carve sayings that provide some wisdom
about death and dying. Visiting someone’s grave isn’t just about remembering someone’s life, but about
confronting death itself, and perhaps finding some way to accept it.
The poem ultimately suggests there are two reasons to commemorating the dead: remembering and
honoring those who are gone, and facing up to the fact of death itself.

Anonymity vs. Fame

As the speaker contemplates death, he focuses on all the common people who have died without fame,
power, or wealth. In particular, he realizes that many people could have been great and famous if only they
had grown up under the right circumstances. Rather than lamenting this fact, however, the speaker suggests
that these people led less troubled lives than those in elite society. The speaker rejects wealth, fame, and
power, and instead celebrates regular people living ordinary lives. Anonymity, the poem suggests, is better
for the soul.
The speaker imagines all the kinds of fame and power common people might have achieved if they’d been
born in a higher class. First, the speaker represents this idea in metaphorical terms: “Full many a flower is
born to blush unseen.” In other words, many flowers bloom with nobody to look at them. The same goes for
common people, whose skills and powers may well go unrecognized.
Next, the speaker imagines this potential in terms of past famous people. For instance, he imagines “Some
mute inglorious Milton here may rest": that is, someone buried in this graveyard might have been as great a
genius as the poet John Milton. However, because the dead here were illiterate and confined to a rural
trade, they never had the chance to write any glorious poems—rendering them metaphorically “mute,” or
unable to speak.
All this wasted potential sounds pretty sad, until the speaker starts thinking about all the horrible people
who have gained power throughout history. For instance, he mentions Oliver Cromwell, a dictator who ruled
England in the middle of the 17th century. Someone buried in this churchyard might have had the same
potential for injustice, yet because of his anonymity, he never had the chance and is “guiltless of his
country’s blood.” In this sense, the lives of common people prevent them from becoming monsters. Their
“lot,” or place in their world, “confined” their “crimes.” Someone can’t “wade through slaughter to a throne”
if they’re just a simple, unknown farmer living from one harvest to the next.
All things considered, the speaker doesn’t think wealth, power, or fame are worth it, preferring common
people's "sober wishes." Regular folks want simple, understandable things like food on the table and a roof
over their heads, the speaker says, and thus are never driven to “the madding crowd’s ignoble strife”—to
the grotesque conflicts of the powerful. Commoners, according to the speaker, live in “the cool sequestered
vale of life.” They keep their heads clear and find a measure of happiness.
Finally, the speaker reveals that he identifies with this anonymity. In the epitaph at the end of the poem, the
speaker imagines himself as a young man who never received an education and died without fame or
wealth. Although he dies full of “Melancholy,” or sadness, he also found a measure of peace in his
anonymity. “[H]is soul was sincere,” and he dies without being polluted by wealth or fame.
Life might not be happy, the poem implies, but at least anonymity grants people the chance to live and die in
peace—without empty striving or cruel ambition.
SUMMARY
Lines 1-4: In the first stanza, the speaker observes the signs of a country day drawing to a close: a curfew bell ringing,
a herd of cattle moving across the pasture, and a farm laborer returning home. The speaker is then left alone to
contemplate the isolated rural scene. The first line of the poem sets a distinctly somber tone: the curfew bell does
not simply ring; it “knells”—a term usually applied to bells rung at a death or funeral. From the start, then, Gray
reminds us of human mortality.
Lines 5-8: The second stanza sustains the somber tone of the first: the speaker is not mournful, but pensive, as he
describes the peaceful landscape that surrounds him. Even the air is characterized as having a “solemn stillness.”
Lines 9-12: The sound of an owl hooting intrudes upon the evening quiet. We are told that the owl “complains”; in
this context, the word does not mean “to whine” or “grumble,” but “to express sorrow.” The owl’s call, then, is
suggestive of grief. Note that at no point in these three opening stanzas does Gray directly refer to death or a
funeral; rather, he indirectly creates a funereal atmosphere by describing just a few mournful sounds.
Lines 13-16: It is in the fourth stanza that the speaker directly draws our attention to the graves in the country
churchyard. We are presented with two potentially conflicting images of death. Line 14 describes the heaps of earth
surrounding the graves; in order to dig a grave, the earth must necessarily be disrupted. Note that the syntax of this
line is slightly confusing. We would expect this sentence to read “Where the turf heaves”—not “where heaves the
turf”: Gray has inverted the word order. Just as the earth has been disrupted, the syntax imitates the way in which
the earth has been disrupted. But by the same token, the “rude Forefathers” buried beneath the earth seem entirely
at peace: we are told that they are laid in “cells,” a term which reminds us of the quiet of a monastery, and that they
“sleep.”
Lines 17-20: If the “Forefathers” are sleeping, however, the speaker reminds us that they will never again rise from
their “beds” to hear the pleasurable sounds of country life that the living do. The term “lowly beds” describes not
only the unpretentious graves in which the forefathers are buried, but the humble conditions that they endured
when they were alive.
Lines 21-24: The speaker then moves on to consider some of the other pleasures the dead will no longer enjoy: the
happiness of home, wife, and children.
Lines 25-28: The dead will also no longer be able to enjoy the pleasures of work, of plowing the fields each day. This
stanza points to the way in which the “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard” contains elements of both Augustan
and Romantic poetry. Poetry that describes agriculture—as this one does— is called georgic. Georgic verse was
extremely popular in the eighteenth century. Note, however, that Gray closely identifies the farmers with the land
that they work. This association of man and nature is suggestive of a romantic attitude. The georgic elements of the
stanza almost demand that we characterize it as typical of the eighteenth century, but its tone looks forward to the
Romantic period.
Lines 29-32: The next four stanzas caution those who are wealthy and powerful not to look down on the poor. These
lines warn the reader not to slight the “obscure” “destiny” of the poor—the fact that they will never be famous or
have long histories, or “annals,” written about them.
Lines 33-36: This stanza invokes the idea of memento mori (literally, a reminder of mortality). The speaker reminds
the reader that regardless of social position, beauty, or wealth, all must eventually die.
Lines 37-40: The speaker also challenges the reader not to look down on the poor for having modest, simple graves.
He suggests, moreover, that the elaborate memorials that adorn the graves of the “Proud” are somehow excessive.
In this context, the word “fretted” in line 39 has a double meaning: on the one hand, it can refer to the design on a
cathedral ceiling; on the other hand, it can suggest that there is something “fretful,” or troublesome, about the
extravagant memorials of the wealthy.
Lines 41-44: The speaker observes that nothing can bring the dead back to life, and that all the advantages that the
wealthy had in life are useless in the face of death. Neither elaborate funeral monuments nor impressive honors can
restore life. Nor can flattery in some way be used to change the mind of death. Note here Gray’s use of
personification in characterizing both “flattery” and “death”—as though death has a will or mind of its own.
Lines 45-48: The speaker then reconsiders the poor people buried in the churchyard. He wonders what great deeds
they might have accomplished had they been given the opportunity: one of these poor farmers, the speaker reasons,
might have been a great emperor; another might have “waked … the living lyre,” or been a great poet or musician.
Lines 49-52: The poor were never able to fulfil their political and artistic potential, however, because they were
uneducated—they never received the “Knowledge” that would enable them to rule and to create. Instead, “Penury,”
or poverty, “froze the genial current of their soul.” That is, poverty paralyzed their ability to draw upon their
innermost passions—the very passions that could have inspired them to become great poets or politicians.
Lines 53-56: In a series of analogies, Gray observes that the talents of the poor are like a “gem” hidden in the ocean
or a “flower” blooming in the desert. Just as an unseen flower in the desert is a “waste,” Gray suggests, the
uneducated talents of the poor are also a “waste,” because they remain unused and undeveloped.
Lines 57-60: The speaker then compares these poor, uneducated people to three of the most famous and powerful
people of the previous century: John Hampden, a parliamentary leader who defended the people against the abuses
of Charles I; John Milton, the great poet who wrote Paradise Lost and who also opposed Charles I; and Oliver
Cromwell, Lord Protector of England from 1653 to 1658. The speaker suggests that buried in this churchyard might
be someone who—like Hampden, Milton, or Cromwell—had the innate ability to oppose tyranny, but never had the
opportunity to exercise that ability.
Lines 61-64: This person, the speaker reasons, with the proper education and resources, might have “commanded”
the government as well as any great political leader. Note, however, that Gray gives us two ways in which to
consider this power. On the one hand, a great ruler can receive applause and can ignore “threats of pain and ruin.” A
great leader can “scatter plenty,” can offer prosperity, to a grateful nation. But on the other hand, if one governs,
one is, in fact, exposed to dangerous threats. And simply governing to receive “applause” suggests a shallow and
self-serving motive. Moreover, “scattering plenty” implies that the wealth of a nation can be squandered by its
rulers. Gray may be suggesting that having power is not as desirable as it seems. Note that the final line of this stanza
is enjambed; it continues into the following line—and in this case, the next stanza.
Lines 65-68: The first line of this stanza continues the thought of the previous, enjambed line. It abruptly reminds us
that the impoverished conditions of the poor “forbade” them from becoming great rulers. Gray underscores the
abrupt shock of this idea by abruptly interrupting the flow of the line with a caesura. Building on the idea of the
previous stanza, the speaker notes that if poverty prevented the country laborers from acquiring the “virtues” of
great and powerful people, it also prevented them from committing the “crimes” often associated with those people
—and especially with those people who hold political power. In particular, it prevented them from engaging in the
bloody activity associated with the British Civil War.
Lines 69-72: Because these farm laborers were not in positions of power, the speaker reasons, they never had to
ignore their own consciences. Nor did they sacrifice their artistic talents (the gift of the “Muse”) to “Luxury” or
“Pride.”
Lines 73-76: The speaker continues his praise of the simple life of common people. They are “far from the madding
crowd” of city and political life. “Madding” here can mean either “maddening” (that is, the source of madness or
insanity) or it can mean “mad” (that is, the crowd is itself hatefully insane). In either case, the common country
people were removed from this insane world; as a result, they never “strayed” into the immoral acts of the
powerful. Instead, they kept steadily to their simple but meaningful lives.
Lines 77-80: The speaker then reminds us that these common people are, in fact, long dead. He notes that even if
they were not powerful or great, and even if they do not have an elaborate memorial of the sort mentioned in line
38, they still deserve homage or tribute. At the very least, he suggests, an onlooker should “sigh” on seeing their
graves. Note here the multiple meanings we can attach to the word “passing.” It can refer to the onlooker, who is
simply walking or “passing by” these graves. It can mean “in passing”—that someone seeing these graves should
take just a moment out of their busy lives to remember the dead. And “passing” itself is a euphemism for death. In a
way, then, Gray is suggesting that there is no difference between the person “passing” by the grave and the person
who has “passed” away—another reminder that all will eventually die.
Lines 81-84: Instead of “fame and elegy,” the people buried here have modest tombstones, which display only their
names and the dates of their birth and death. These common people were not famous, and no one has written
elaborate elegies or funeral verses for them. Still, the very modesty of their tomb-stones testifies to the nobility and
“holy” nature of their simple lives. As such, they provide an example not so much of how life should be lived, but
how its end, death, should be approached. The term “rustic moralist” here is open to interpretation. It may refer to
anyone who is in the countryside thinking about the meaning of death. But more likely, it refers to the speaker, who
is himself moralizing—preaching or contemplating—about the nature of both life and death.
Lines 85-88: The speaker reasons that most people, faced with the prospect of dying and ultimately being forgotten,
cling to life. Note Gray’s use of paradox in line 86: “this pleasing anxious being.” On the one hand, “being” or living
can be “anxious,” filled with worries. On the other hand, just being alive— when faced with death—is itself
“pleasing” or pleasant. The speaker is suggesting that even the troubles and worries of life are enjoyable in
comparison to death.
Lines 89-92: The dead rely on the living to remember them and to mourn for them. The speaker suggests that this
need is so fundamental that even from the grave the buried dead seem to ask for remembrance. In fact, as line 92
suggests, the dead actually live on in our memories.
Lines 93-96: In this stanza, the speaker addresses himself. He reasons that since he himself has been mindful of the
dead, and has remembered and praised them in this poem, perhaps when he is dead someone will remember him.
Lines 97-100: In the next five stanzas, the speaker imagines how an old farm laborer might remember him after his
death. If, the speaker speculates, the “kindred Spirit” sees the speaker’s grave and wonders about it, perhaps an old
man might offer to describe the speaker. The old man would say that the speaker was often seen wandering about
the countryside at dawn. Presumably, he was frequently out all night — as, no doubt, he has been in this very poem.
Lines 101-104: At noon, the old man continues, the speaker would frequently stretch out under an old tree at noon,
and stare at a nearby brook.
Lines 105-108: The old man would have observed that the speaker’s moods were changeable: sometimes the
speaker would wander about in the nearby woods, “smiling scornfully” and talking to himself; other times, he would
appear depressed; then again, sometimes he would look as though he were in anguish. Perhaps, the old man
speculates, the speaker had been “crossed in hopeless love.”
Lines 109-112: The speaker continues to imagine this old man remembering him after his death. The old man would
have noticed one morning that the speaker was absent: he was not in any of his favourite spots. Likewise, the old
man would remember, the speaker did not appear the following day.
Lines 113-116: The third day, however, the old man and his friends would have seen the speaker’s body being
carried to the churchyard for burial. (The speaker, then, is imagining himself buried in the very graveyard he once
used to wander by.) The old man invites this curious passerby, or “kindred Spirit,” to read the speaker’s epitaph.
Note the reminder that the old man is uneducated: he cannot read, although the passerby can do so.
Lines 117-120: The last three stanzas are, in fact, the speaker’s epitaph; the way in which the speaker imagines his
epitaph will read. Through the epitaph, the speaker asks the passerby (and the reader) not to remember him as
wealthy, famous, or brilliantly educated, but as one who was “melancholic” or deeply thoughtful and sad.
Lines 121-124: The speaker asks that we remember him for being generous and sincere. His generosity was, in fact,
his willingness to mourn for the dead. Because he was so generous, the speaker reasons, heaven gave him a “friend”
— someone who would, in turn, mourn for him after his death. This friend is unnamed, but we can deduce that it is
any “kindred Spirit” — including the reader — who reads the speaker’s epitaph and remembers him.
Lines 125-128: The speaker concludes by cautioning the reader not to praise him any further. He also asks that his
“frailties,” his flaws or personal weaknesses, not be considered; rather, they should be left to the care of God, with
whom the speaker now resides. The poem, then, is an elegy not only for the common man, but for the speaker
himself. Indeed, by the end of the poem it is evident that the speaker himself wishes to be identified not with the
great and famous, but with the common people whom he has praised and with whom he will, presumably, be
buried.