Top stone loosing in a cloud
Where the cross to time resignd
Creaking harshly in the wind
Crowning high the rifted dome
Points the pilgrims wisht for home
While the look fear turns away
Shuddering at its dread decay
Then let me my peace pursue
Neath the shades of gloomy yew
Dolfull hung wi mourning green
Suiting well the solemn scene
There as I may learn to scan
Mites illustrious called man
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