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  •   16  /  17  

    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.

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  26  /  22  

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

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

by Alexander Smith Found in: Evening Quotes,
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  34  /  38  

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.

by Thomas Gray Found in: Evening Quotes,
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  21  /  16  

Day's lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death.

Day's lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death.

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  20  /  10  

The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
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The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices.

by Lord Alfred Tennyson Found in: Evening Quotes,
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  21  /  15  

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

by English Proverb Found in: Evening Quotes,
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  19  /  22  

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.

by Jean Ingelow Found in: Evening Quotes,
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  23  /  34  

Just then return'd at shut of evening flowers.

Just then return'd at shut of evening flowers.

by John Milton Found in: Evening Quotes,
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  25  /  23  

At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
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At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill
And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove.

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  20  /  12  

It is the hour when from the boughs
The nightingale's high note is heard;
It is the read more

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.

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