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Evening: Quotations from Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations
In time there is no present, In eternity no future, In eternity no past.— TENNYSON — The "How" and "Why."
But felt through all this fleshly dresse Bright shootes of everlastingnesse.— HENRY VAUGHAN — The Retreate.
And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?— YOUNG — Night Thoughts. Night I. L. 66.
To me at least was never evening yet But seemed far beautifuller than its day.— ROBERT BROWNING — The Ring and the Book. Pompilia. L. 357.
Hath not thy heart within thee burned, At evening's calm and holy hour?— S. G. BULFINCH — Meditation.
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; 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.— BYRON — Parisina. St. 1.
Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.— COWPER — Task. Bk. IV. L. 36.
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.— GEORGE CROLY — The Poet's Hour.
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. S.— GRAY — Elegy in a Country Churchyard.
How gently rock yon poplars high Against the reach of primrose sky With heaven's pale candles stored.— JEAN INGELOW — Supper at the Mill.
Song. But when eve's silent footfall steals Along the eastern sky, And one by one to earth reveals Those purer fires on high.— KEBLE — The 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.— LONGFELLOW — Hyperion. Bk. IV. Ch. V.
O precious evenings! all too swiftly sped! C.— LONGFELLOW — Sonnet. On Mrs. Kem-
ble's Readings from Shakespeare. Just then return'd at shut of evening flowers.— MILTON — Paradise Lost. Bk. IX. L. 278.
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.— MILTON — Paradise Lost. Bk. IV. L. 598.
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.— MOORE — Fly Not Yet.
O how grandly cometh Even, Sitting on the mountain summit, Purple-vestured, grave, and silent, Watching o'er the dewy valleys, Like a good king near his end.— D. M. MULOCK — A Stream's Singing.
One by one the flowers close, Lily and dewy rose Shutting their tender petals from the moon.— CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI — Twilight Calm.
The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night.— ALEXANDER SMITH — A 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.— TENNYSON — Ulysses. L. 54.
I was heavy with the even, When she lit her glimmering tapers Round the day's dead sanctities. I laughed in the morning's eyes.— FRANCIS THOMPSON — The Hound of Heaven. L. 84. L. 84.
The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration.— WORDSWORTH — It is a Beauteous