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.
You May Also Like / View all maxioms
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day
First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill,
Portend read more
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day
First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill,
Portend success in love.
Hark! that's the nightingale,
Telling the self-same tale
Her song told when this ancient earth was young:
read more
Hark! that's the nightingale,
Telling the self-same tale
Her song told when this ancient earth was young:
So echoes answered when her song was sung
In the first wooded vale.
Think in the morning. Act in the noon. Eat in the evening. Sleep in the night.
Think in the morning. Act in the noon. Eat in the evening. Sleep in the night.
Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early hours,
Of winter's past or coming void of care,
Well read more
Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early hours,
Of winter's past or coming void of care,
Well pleased with delights which present are,
Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet-smelling flowers.
Where the nightingale doth sing
Not a senseless, tranced thing,
But divine melodious truth.
Where the nightingale doth sing
Not a senseless, tranced thing,
But divine melodious truth.
Now came still evening on; and twilight gray
Had in her sober livery all things clad:
Silence read more
Now came still evening on; and twilight gray
Had in her sober livery all things clad:
Silence accompanied; for beast and bird,
They to they grassy couch, these to their nests,
Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.
O how grandly cometh Even,
Sitting on the mountain summit,
Purple-vestured, grave, and silent,
read more
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.
I was heavy with the even,
When she lit her glimmering tapers
Round the day's dead sanctities.
read more
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.
Hath thy heart within thee burned,
At evening's calm and holy hour?
Hath thy heart within thee burned,
At evening's calm and holy hour?
