Whilst far-off lowing herds are heard From cottages whose smoke unstirred Star of love's soft interviews, By absence from the heart. Thomas Campbell [1777-1844] THE EVENING CLOUD A CLOUD lay cradled near the setting sun, To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given, And by the breath of mercy made to roll Right onwards to the golden gates of heaven, Where to the eye of faith it peaceful lies, And tells to man his glorious destinies. John Wilson (1785-1854] SONG: TO CYNTHIA From "Cynthia's Revels" QUEEN and huntress, chaste and fair, Seated in thy silver chair, Hesperus entreats thy light, J 1 Night 13201 Earth, let not thy envious shade Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear, when day did close: Lay thy bow of pearl apart, And thy crystal-shining quiver; Space to breathe, how short soever: Goddess excellently bright. Ben Jonson [1573?-1637] MY STAR ALL that I know Of a certain star Is, it can throw (Like the angled spar) Now a dart of red, Now a dart of blue, Till my friends have said They would fain see, too, My star that dartles the red and the blue! Then it stops like a bird; like a flower, hangs furled: They must solace themselves with the Saturn above it. What matter to me if their star is a world? Mine has opened its soul to me; therefore I love it. Robert Browning [1812-1889] NIGHT THE sun descending in the West, The evening star does shine; The birds are silent in their nest, And I must seek for mine. The moon, like a flower Sits and smiles on the night. Farewell, green fields and happy grove, Where flocks have ta'en delight; Where lambs have nibbled, silent move Unseen, they pour blessing, They look in every thoughtless nest, They visit caves of every beast, To keep them all from harm. That should have been sleeping, When wolves and tigers howl for prey They pitying stand and weep, Seeking to drive their thirst away, And keep them from the sheep. But, if they rush dreadful, And there the lion's ruddy eyes Shall flow with tears of gold: And pitying the tender cries, And walking round the fold, Saying: "Wrath by His meekness, And by His health, sickness, Are driven away From our immortal day. To Night And now beside thee, bleating lamb, Or think on Him who bore thy name, My bright mane for ever As I guard o'er the fold." 1323 William Blake [1757-1827] TO NIGHT SWIFTLY walk o'er the western wave, Out of the misty eastern cave Where, all the long and lone daylight, Wrap thy form in a mantle gray, Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day; Kiss her until she be wearied out, Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land, When I arose and saw the dawn, When light rode high, and the dew was gone, And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, And the weary Day turned to his rest, Lingering like an unloved guest, Thy brother Death came, and cried, "Would'st thou me?" Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, Murmured like a noontide bee, "Shall I nestle near thy side? Death will come when thou art dead, Sleep will come when thou art fled; Percy Bysshe Shelley [1792-1822] TO NIGHT MYSTERIOUS Night! when our first parent knew This glorious canopy of light and blue? Who could have thought such darkness-lay concealed While fly, and leaf, and insect stood revealed, Joseph Blanco White [1775-1841] NIGHT MYSTERIOUS night! Spread wide thy silvery plume! |