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.

— Evening

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

— Evening

Just then return'd at shut of evening flowers.

— Evening

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

— Evening

And whiter grows the foam,My shadow walks before.

— Evening

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

— Evening

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

— Evening

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

— Evening

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

— Evening

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

— Evening

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

— Evening

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

— Evening

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

— Evening

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

— Evening

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

— Evening

Day's lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death.

— Evening

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

— Evening

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

— Evening

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

— Evening

The holy time is quiet as a NunBreathless with adoration.

— Evening