|Hoyt & Roberts, comps. Hoyts New Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations. 1922.|
|At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still|
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill
And nought but the nightingales song in the grove.
|And whiter grows the foam,|
The small moon lightens more;
And as I turn me home,
My shadow walks before.
Robert BridgesThe Clouds have left the Sky.
|To me at least was never evening yet|
But seemed far beautifuller than its day.
Robert BrowningThe Ring and the Book. Pompilia. L. 357.
|Hath thy heart within thee burned,|
At evenings calm and holy hour?
S. G. BulfinchMeditation.
|It is the hour when from the boughs|
The nightingales high note is heard;
It is the hour when lovers vows
Seem sweet in every whispered word;
And gentle winds, and waters near,
Make music to the lonely ear.
Each flower the dews have lightly wet,
And in the sky the stars are met,
And on the wave is deeper blue,
And on the leaf a browner hue,
And in the heaven that clear obscure,
So softly dark, and darkly pure.
Which follows the decline of day,
As twilight melts beneath the moon away.
ByronParisina. St. 1.
|When day is done, and clouds are low,|
And flowers are honey-dew,
And Hespers lamp begins to glow
Along the western blue;
And homeward wing the turtle-doves,
Then comes the hour the poet loves.
George CrolyThe Poets Hour.
|The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,|
The lowing herd winds slowly oer the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
GrayElegy in a Country Churchyard. (Herd wind in 1753 ed. Knell of parting day taken from Dante.)
|Day hath put on his jacket, and around|
His burning bosom buttoned it with stars.
|How gently rock yon poplars high|
Against the reach of primrose sky
With heavens pale candles stored.
Jean IngelowSupper at the Mill. Song.
|But when eves silent footfall steals|
Along the eastern sky,
And one by one to earth reveals
Those purer fires on high.
KebleThe Christian Year. Fourth Sunday After Trinity.
| Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his sandal shoon.|
LongfellowHyperion. Bk. IV. Ch. V.
|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.
MiltonParadise Lost. Bk. IV. L. 598.
|Just then returnd at shut of evening flowers.|
MiltonParadise Last. Bk. IX. L. 278.
|Fly not yet, tis just the hour|
When pleasure, like the midnight flower
That scorns the eye of vulgar light,
Begins to bloom for sons of night,
And maids who love the moon.
MooreFly Not Yet.
|O how grandly cometh Even,|
Sitting on the mountain summit,
Purple-vestured, grave, and silent,
Watching oer the dewy valleys,
Like a good king near his end.
D. M. MulockA Streams Singing.
|One by one the flowers close,|
Lily and dewy rose
Shutting their tender petals from the moon.
Christina G. RossettiTwilight Calm.
|Days lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death.|
SchillerThe Assignation. St. 4. Lord Lyttons trans.
|The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night.|
Alexander SmithA Life Drama. Sc. 8.
|The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:|
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices.
TennysonUlysses. L. 54.
|I was heavy with the even,|
When she lit her glimmering tapers
Round the days dead sanctities.
I laughed in the mornings eyes.
Francis ThompsonThe Hound of Heaven. L. 84.
|The holy time is quiet as a Nun|
Breathless with adoration.
WordsworthIt is a Beauteous Evening.