A man can do only what a man can do. But if he does that each day he can sleep read more

A man can do only what a man can do. But if he does that each day he can sleep at night and do it again the next day.

The smoke ascends
In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires
Shine and are changed. In the valley
read more

The smoke ascends
In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires
Shine and are changed. In the valley
Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun
Closing his benediction,
Sinks, and the darkening air
Thrills with the sense of the triumphing night,--
Night with train of stars
And her great gift of sleep.

When it draws near to witching time of night.

When it draws near to witching time of night.

A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the read more

A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.

Night's black Mantle covers all alike.
- Guillaume de Salluste Du Bartas,

Night's black Mantle covers all alike.
- Guillaume de Salluste Du Bartas,

A late lark twitters from the quiet skies:
And from the west,
Where the sun, his day's read more

A late lark twitters from the quiet skies:
And from the west,
Where the sun, his day's work ended,
Lingers as in content,
There falls on the old, gray city
An influence luminous and serene,
A shining peace.

Think of your own faults the first part of the night when you are awake, and the faults of others read more

Think of your own faults the first part of the night when you are awake, and the faults of others the latter part of the night when you are asleep

The burden of Dumah. He calleth to me out of Seir, Watchman,
what of the night? Watchman, what of read more

The burden of Dumah. He calleth to me out of Seir, Watchman,
what of the night? Watchman, what of the night?

Dark the Night, with breath all flowers,
And tender broken voice that fills
With ravishment the listening read more

Dark the Night, with breath all flowers,
And tender broken voice that fills
With ravishment the listening hours,--
Whisperings, wooings,
Liquid ripples, and soft ring-dove cooings
In low-toned rhythm that love's aching stills!
Dark the night
Yet is she bright,
For in her dark she brings the mystic star,
Trembling yet strong, as is the voice of love,
From some unknown afar.