Evening

“Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his sandal shoon.”

“Now came still evening on; and twilight grayWere slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.”

“Just then return'd at shut of evening flowers.”

“At the close of the day, when the hamlet is stillAnd nought but the nightingale's song in the grove.”

“And whiter grows the foam,My shadow walks before.”

“To me at least was never evening yetBut seemed far beautifuller than its day.”

“Hath thy heart within thee burned,At evening's calm and holy hour?”

“When day is done, and clouds are low,Then comes the hour the poet loves.”

“The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.”

“Day hath put on his jacket, and aroundHis burning bosom buttoned it with stars.”

“How gently rock yon poplars high With heaven's pale candles stored.”

“But when eve's silent footfall steals Those purer fires on high.”

“Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour And maids who love the moon.”

“O how grandly cometh Even, Like a good king near his end.”

“One by one the flowers close,Shutting their tender petals from the moon.”

“Day's lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death.”

“The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night.”

“The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:Moans round with many voices.”

“I was heavy with the even,I laughed in the morning's eyes.”

“The holy time is quiet as a NunBreathless with adoration.”