EVENING.
Sweet the coming on
Of grateful evening mild; then silent night
With this her solemn bird and this fair moon,
And these the gems of heaven, her starry train.
Paradise Lost, Bk. IV. MILTON.
It is the hour when from the boughs
The nightingale's high note is heard;
It is the hour when lovers' vows
Seem sweet in every whispered word.
Parisina. LORD BYRON.
O, Twilight! Spirit that doth render birth
To dim enchantments, melting heaven with earth,
Leaving on craggy hills and running streams
A softness like the atmosphere of dreams.
Picture of Twilight. MRS. C. NORTON.
Now came still evening on; and twilight gray
Had in her sober livery all things clad:
Silence accompanied; for beast and bird,
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests,
Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.
Paradise Lost, Bk. IV. MILTON.
The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night.
A Life Drama. A. SMITH.
When on the marge of evening the last blue light is broken,
And winds of dreamy odor are loosened from afar
When on the Marge of Evening. L.I. GUINEY.
When day is done, and clouds are low,
And flowers are honey-dew,
And Hesper's lamp begins to glow
Along the western blue;
And homeward wing the turtle-doves,
Then comes the hour the poet loves.
The Poet's Hour. G. CROLY.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices.
Ulysses. A. TENNYSON.
The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration.
It is a Beauteous Evening. W. WORDSWORTH.