Alfred, Lord Tennyson Quotes

After the sunset on the prairie, there are only the stars

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 sun's rim dips; the stars rush out: At one stride comes the dark; With far-heard whisper o'er the sea, Off shot the spectre-bark.

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

The whisper of the dusk is night shedding its husk.

In that dilated moment after sunset when the sky holds all the light.

The wide stare stared itself out for one while; the Sun went down in a red, green, golden glory; the stars came out in the heavens, and the fire-flies mimicked them in the lower air, as men may feebly imitate the goodness of a better order of beings; the long dusty roads and the interminable plains were in repose-and so deep a hush was on the sea, that it scarcely whispered of the time when it shall give up its dead.

Twilight and evening bell, and after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell when I embark.

Night falls fast. Today is in the past.

The longest Day hath an Eueninge.

Softly the evening came /with the sunset/.

I hope to die in the saddle seat.

Men shut their doors against a setting sun.

Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For though from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar.

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!

It was early evening when they walked outside, the sky the color of pink lemonade.

Twilight, again. Another ending. No matter how perfect the day is, it always has to end.

Suddenly the day was gone, night came out from under each tree and spread.

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.

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

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

Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his sandal shoon.

Night had come on like the closing of a great but gentle eye.