It is the hour when from the boughs
The nightingale’s high note is heard;
It is the hour when lovers’ vows
Seem sweet in every whispered word.
Parisina.  LORD BYRON.

  O, Twilight!  Spirit that doth render birth
  To dim enchantments, melting heaven with earth,
  Leaving on craggy hills and running streams
  A softness like the atmosphere of dreams.
Picture of Twilight.  MRS. C. NORTON.

  Now came still evening on; and twilight gray
  Had in her sober livery all things clad: 
  Silence accompanied; for beast and bird,
  They to their grassy couch, these to their nests,
    Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.
Paradise Lost, Bk.  IV.  MILTON.

The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night. A Life Drama.  A. SMITH.

  When on the marge of evening the last blue light is broken,
  And winds of dreamy odor are loosened from afar
When on the Marge of Evening.  L.I.  GUINEY.

  When day is done, and clouds are low,
    And flowers are honey-dew,
  And Hesper’s lamp begins to glow
    Along the western blue;
  And homeward wing the turtle-doves,
  Then comes the hour the poet loves.
The Poet’s Hour.  G. CROLY.

  The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks: 
  The long day wanes:  the slow moon climbs:  the deep
  Moans round with many voices.
Ulysses.  A. TENNYSON.

  The holy time is quiet as a Nun
  Breathless with adoration.
It is a Beauteous Evening.  W. WORDSWORTH.

EXPECTATION.

’Tis expectation makes a blessing dear;
Heaven were not heaven, if we knew what it were.
Against Fruition.  SIR J. SUCKLING.

Oft expectation fails, and most oft there
Where most it promises; and oft it hits
Where hope is coldest, and despair most fits.
All’s Well that Ends Well, Act ii.  Sc. 1.  SHAKESPEARE.

                       Why wish for more? 
  Wishing, of all employments, is the worst;
  Philosophy’s reverse and health’s decay.
Night Thoughts, Night IV.  DR. E. YOUNG.

EYE.

A gray eye is a sly eye,
And roguish is a brown one;
Turn full upon me thy eye,—­
Ah, how its wavelets drown one! 
A blue eye is a true eye;
Mysterious is a dark one,
Which flashes like a spark-sun! 
A black eye is the best one.
Oriental Poetry:  Mirza Shaffy on Eyes.  W.B.  ALGER.

O lovely eyes of azure,
Clear as the waters of a brook that run
Limpid and laughing in the summer sun!
The Masque of Pandora, Pt.  I.  H.W.  LONGFELLOW.

                      Within her tender eye
  The heaven of April, with its changing light.
The Spirit of Poetry.  H.W.  LONGFELLOW.

Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth,
Like the fair sun, when in his fresh array
He cheers the morn, and all the earth relieveth;
And as the bright sun glorifies the sky,
So is her face illumined with her eye.
Venus and Adonis.  SHAKESPEARE.