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When day is done, and clouds are low,
And flowers are honey-dew,
And Hesper's lamp begins to read more
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
And whiter grows the foam,
The small moon lightens more;
And as I turn me home,
read more
And whiter grows the foam,
The small moon lightens more;
And as I turn me home,
My shadow walks before.
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.
Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of
heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the read more
Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of
heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his
sandal shoon.