Quotes
Quotes about Midnight
What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight?
We have heard the chimes at midnight.
How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags!
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve.
Fairy elves,
Whose midnight revels by a forest side
Or fountain some belated peasant sees,
Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon
Sits arbitress.
Midnight brought on the dusky hour
Friendliest to sleep and silence.
Midnight shout and revelry,
Tipsy dance and jollity.
And bear about the mockery of woe
To midnight dances and the public show.
Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil
O'er books consum'd the midnight oil?
Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,
With many a foul and midnight murder fed.
Comus and his midnight crew.
This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,
And Wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.
The stars of midnight shall be dear
To her; and she shall lean her ear
In many a secret place
Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty born of murmuring sound
Shall pass into her face.
Fly not yet; 't is 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.
Mournfully, oh, mournfully,
The midnight wind doth sigh,
Like some sweet plaintive melody
Of ages long gone by.
Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate,
Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours
Weeping upon his bed has sate,
He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping.
It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old.
It was the calm and silent night!
Seven hundred years and fifty-three
Had Rome been growing up to might,
And now was queen of land and sea.
No sound was heard of clashing wars,
Peace brooded o'er the hushed domain;
Apollo, Pallas, Jove, and Mars
Held undisturbed their ancient reign
In the solemn midnight,
Centuries ago.
O white and midnight sky, O starry bath,
Wash me in thy pure, heavenly crystal flood:
Cleanse me, ye stars, from earthly soil and scath--
Let not one taint remain in spirit or blood!
There is a budding morrow in midnight.
It was the calm and silent night! Seven hundred years and fifty-three Had Rome been growing up to might And now was queen of land and sea. No sound was heard of clashing wars, Peace brooded o'er the hushed domain; Apollo, Pallas, Jove and Mars, Held undisturbed their ancient reign, In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago.
It is daffodil time, so the robins all cry, For the sun's a big daffodil up in the sky, And when down the midnight the owl call "to-whoo"! Why, then the round moon is a daffodil too; Now sheer to the bough-tops the sap starts to climb, So, merry my masters, it's daffodil time.
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.
What is the end of Fame? 'tis but to fill A certain portion of uncertain paper: Some liken it to climbing up a hill, Whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapour: For this men write, speak, preach, and heroes kill, And bards burn what they call their "midnight taper," To have, when the original is dust, A name, a wretched picture, and worse bust.
