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Day hath put on his jacket, and around
His burning bosom buttoned it with stars.
Day hath put on his jacket, and around
His burning bosom buttoned it with stars.
And whiter grows the foam,
The small moon lightens more;
And as I turn me home,
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And whiter grows the foam,
The small moon lightens more;
And as I turn me home,
My shadow walks before.
To me at least was never evening yet
But seemed far beautifuller than its day.
To me at least was never evening yet
But seemed far beautifuller than its day.
Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour
When pleasure, like the midnight flower
That scorns the eye read more
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.
How gently rock yon poplars high
Against the reach of primrose sky
With heaven's pale candles stored.
How gently rock yon poplars high
Against the reach of primrose sky
With heaven's pale candles stored.
One by one the flowers close,
Lily and dewy rose
Shutting their tender petals from the moon.
One by one the flowers close,
Lily and dewy rose
Shutting their tender petals from the moon.
In the morning be first up, and in the evening last to go to bed, for they that sleep catch read more
In the morning be first up, and in the evening last to go to bed, for they that sleep catch no fish
Just then return'd at shut of evening flowers.
Just then return'd at shut of evening flowers.
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The read more
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.