One of the best-known poems in the English language, Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard (1750), was penned by Thomas Gray in a lovely country setting now just on the outskirts of Greater London. Because the grounds so graphically described in the poem were part of the property of nearby Stoke Poges Manor House, they and the church have been preserved in their original parklike surroundings.
In 1799 an elaborate monument was erected by John Penn, grandson of William Penn, who currently owned the manor house. The remains of Thomas Gray rest beside those of his mother in a simple tomb of brick built just outside the east end of the church. The church itself is very ancient: a small part of it dates to Saxon times; and Norman, Gothic and Tudor styles are in evidence. In Gray’s time there was a spire set on an ‘ivy covered tow’r’, but the tower now has a small peaked roof. If one is inclined to reflect on the brevity of human existence, this is a good place to spend a few quiet minutes thinking about Gray’s lines:
The boast of heraldry’, the pomp of pow’r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave, Await alike th’ inevitable hour: The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If Memory o’er their tomb no trophies raise, Where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn, or animated bust, Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can honour’s voice provoke the silent dust, Or flatt’ry soothe the dull cold ear of death?