Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes

Finish, good lady; the bright day is done, And we are for the Dark.

The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight.

The day is done; and slowly from the scene the stooping sun upgathers his spent shafts, and puts them back into his golden quiver!

Night falls. Or has fallen. Why is it that night falls, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if you look east, at sunset, you can see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon, like a black sun behind cloud cover. Like smoke from an unseen fire, a line of fire just below the horizon, brushfire or a burning city. Maybe night falls because it’s heavy, a thick curtain pulled up over the eyes. Wool blanket.

The sky grew darker, painted blue on blue, one stroke at a time, into deeper and deeper shades of night.

Why is it called 'after dark' when it really is 'after light'?

The whisper of the dusk is night shedding its husk.

Soon evening worked its way into the sky, and the city hunched itself down.

... but the longest day hath its evening.

When evening quickens in the street, comes a pause in the day's occupation that is known as the cocktail hour.

...So let us welcome peaceful evening in.

Night falls fast. Today is in the past.

Sundown- When the sun must make peace with the moon and for a few brief moments, the two touch in mutual friendship and respect. Perfect balance between the light and dark. A time for reflection and for preparation.

I look forward to a lot more free time, at least initially, with my wife, Lisa, and our three children.

Dawn: When men of reason go to bed.

I really wanted to retire and rest and spend more time with my children, my grandchildren and of course with my wife.

Men shut their doors against a setting sun.

The light was leaving in the west it was blue The children's laughter sang and skipping just like the stones they threw the voices echoed across the way its getting late It was just another night with the sun set and the moon rise not so far behind to give us just enough light to lay down underneath the stars listen to papas translations of the stories across the sky we drew our own constellations

It's not dark yet But it's getting there

Twilight fell: The sky turned to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars.

When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud And goes down burning into the gulf below, No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud At what has happened. Birds, at least must know It is the change to darkness in the sky. Murmuring something quiet in her breast, One bird begins to close a faded eye; Or overtaken too far from his nest, Hurrying low above the grove, some waif Swoops just in time to his remembered tree. At most he thinks or twitters softly, 'Safe! Now let the night be dark for all of me. Let the night be too dark for me to see Into the future. Let what will be, be.

Night wasn't so much falling as sharpening its claws.

The sun was set; the night came on apace, And falling dews bewet around the place; The bat takes airy rounds on leathern wings, And the hoarse owl his woeful dirges sings.