You May Also Like / View all maxioms
How lovely are the portals of the night,
When stars come out to watch the daylight die.
How lovely are the portals of the night,
When stars come out to watch the daylight die.
From that high mount of God whence light and shade
Spring both, the face of brightest heaven had changed
read more
From that high mount of God whence light and shade
Spring both, the face of brightest heaven had changed
To grateful twilight.
The lengthening shadows wait
The first pale stars of twilight.
The lengthening shadows wait
The first pale stars of twilight.
. . . th' approach of night
The skies yet blushing with departing light,
When falling dews read more
. . . th' approach of night
The skies yet blushing with departing light,
When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade,
And the low sun had lengthen'd ev'ry shade.
Ah, County Guy, the hour is nigh,
The sun has left the lea,
The orange flower perfumes read more
Ah, County Guy, the hour is nigh,
The sun has left the lea,
The orange flower perfumes the bower,
The breeze is on the sea.
The sunbeams dropped
Their gold, and, passing in porch and niche,
Softened to shadows, silvery, pale, and read more
The sunbeams dropped
Their gold, and, passing in porch and niche,
Softened to shadows, silvery, pale, and dim,
As if the very Day paused and grew Eve.
In the twilight of morning to climb to the top of the mountain,--
Thee to salute, kindly star, earliest read more
In the twilight of morning to climb to the top of the mountain,--
Thee to salute, kindly star, earliest herald of day,--
And to await, with impatience, the gaze of the ruler of heaven.--
Youthful delight, oh, how oft lur'st thou me out in the night.
Parting day
Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues
With a new colour as it gasps read more
Parting day
Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues
With a new colour as it gasps away,
The last still loveliest, till--'tis gone--and all is gray.
The summer day is closed, the sun is set:
Well they have done their office, those bright hours,
read more
The summer day is closed, the sun is set:
Well they have done their office, those bright hours,
The latest of whose train goes softly out
In the red west.