Quotes
Quotes about Night
I said to the Nightingale: "Hail, all hail! Pierce with thy trill the dark, Like a glittering music-spark, When the earth grows pale and dumb."
Yon nightingale, whose strain so sweetly flows, Mourning her ravish'd young or much-loved mate, A soothing charm o'er all the valleys throws And skies, with notes well tuned to her and state.
The sunrise wakes the lark to sing, The moonrise wakes the nightingale. Come, darkness, moonrise, everything That is so silent, sweet, and pale: Come, so ye wake the nightingale.
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.
The angel of spring, the mellow-throated nightingale.
The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark When neither is attended; and I think The nightingale, if she should sing by day When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren. How many thing by season seasoned are To their right praise and true perfection!
A song to the oak, the brave old oak, Who hath ruled in the greenwood long; Here's health and renown to his broad green crown, And his fifty arms so strong. There's fear in his frown when the Sun goes down, And the fire in the West fades out; And he showeth his might on a wild midnight, When the storms through his branches shout.
Those green-robed senators of mighty woods, Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars, Dream, and so dream all night without a stir.
As night the life-inclining stars best shows, So lives obscure the starriest souls disclose.
When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-who; Tu-whit, tu-who: a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
It is the owl that shrieked, the fatal bellman Which gives the stern'st good-night.
Come, now a roundel and a fairy song; Then, for the third part of a minute, hence-- Some to kill canters in the musk-rose buds, Some war with reremice for their leathren wings, To make my small elves coats, and some keep back The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots and wonders At our quaint spirits.
Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale. from the poem The Cotterâs Saturday Night.
I send thee pansies while the year is young, Yellow as sunshine, purple as the night; Flowers of remembrance, ever fondly sung By all the chiefest of the Sons of Light; And if in recollection lives regret For wasted days and dreams that were not true, I tell thee that the "pansy freak'd with jet" Is still the heart's ease that the poets knew Take all the sweetness of a gift unsought, And for the pansies send me back a thought.
Good night! I have to say good night, To such a host of peerless things!
Till then, good-night! You wish the time were now? And I. You do not blush to wish it so? You would have blush'd yourself to death To own so much a year ago. What! both these snowy hands? ah, then I'll have to say, Good-night again.
Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days That are no more, and shall no more return. Thou hast but taken up thy lamp and gone to bed; I stay a little longer, as one stays To cover up the embers that still burn.
Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow.
Gone--flitted away, Taken the stars from the night and the sun From the day! Gone, and a cloud in my heart.
if this night is all we have, we'll let sunrise wait for us.
In the black of my midnight you're the star for me.
Put none but Americans on guard tonight.
Our commander said the Viet Cong are farmers by day.. guerillas by night. Look for those who are tired. So anyone who yawned was getting popped.
What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.
Every castle of the air Sleeps in the fine black grains, and there Are seeds for every romance, or light Whiff of a dream for a summer night.
