The Break of Day
THE STARS are pale.
Old is the Night, his case is grievous,
His strength doth fail.
Through stilly hours
The dews have draped with love’s old lavishness
The drowsy flowers.
And Night shall die.
Already, lo! the Morn’s first ecstasies
Across the sky.
An evil time is done.
Again, as some one lost in a quaint parable,
Comes up the Sun.
poem by John Shaw Neilson
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Related quotes
Dark Night
Night dark but your lies were darker
Night cruel but your love more crueler
Night all alone yet better than your absent minded with me
Night was the time i gave my whole to you
Night was the time you slapped my face
Night was the day you pushed me to the door.
Night was the time you abused me
Night was the time you slit my tongue
Night was the time the moon refuses to smile at us
Night was the time i lost you
Night was the time you left me all in the rain
Night was the time i cry you a river
Night under the tree you promise me your undying love
Night was the time you bid me goodbye
Night was the time you threw a stone into my glassy world.
poem by Blessing Ekpe
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Night-Night (Children)
Night-night moon
Night-night stars
Night-night noisy
trucks and cars.
Night-night sand box
Night-night toys
Night-night other
girls and boys.
Night-night mom
Night-night dad
Night-night Boogie Man
who's not bad.
It's time to go to sleep now,
most all my night nights said.
Night-night blankie
Night-night bed.
The Village
When a new life turns towards you
And the night becomes a bay
We shall remain forever
Everyone who meets his way
Oh, our love is like the flowers
The rain and the sea and the hours
Oh, our love is like the flowers
The rain and the sea and the hours
When the rain falls to the sea
Theyll be waiting for you and for me
And the sky reflects our image
Trying to sleep right through our lives
Oh, our love is like the earth
The sun and the trees and the birth
Oh, our love is like the earth
The sun and the trees and the birth
I am still here two days later
Same place, same time
And Im stuck here two years too long
Same place, the wrong time
Oh, our love is like the flowers
The rain and the sea and the hours
Oh, our love is like the flowers
The sun and the sea and the hours
Their love died three years ago
Spoken words I cannot show
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Diya
Look, Dear, how bright the moonlight is to-night!
See where it casts the shadow of that tree
Far out upon the grass. And every gust
Of light night wind comes laden with the scent
Of opening flowers which never bloom by day:
Night-scented stocks, and four-o'clocks, and that
Pale yellow disk, upreared on its tall stalk,
The evening primrose, comrade of the stars.
It seems as though the garden which you love
Were like a swinging censer, its incense
Floating before us as a reverent act
To sanctify and bless our night of love.
Tell me once more you love me, that 't is you
Yes, really you, I touch, so, with my hand;
And tell me it is by your own free will
That you are here, and that you like to be
Just here, with me, under this sailing pine.
I need to hear it often for my heart
Doubts naturally, and finds it hard to trust.
Ah, Dearest, you are good to love me so,
And yet I would not have it goodness, rather
Excess of selfishness in you to need
Me through and through, as flowers need the sun.
I wonder can it really be that you
And I are here alone, and that the night
Is full of hours, and all the world asleep,
And none can call to you to come away;
For you have given all yourself to me
Making me gentle by your willingness.
Has your life too been waiting for this time,
Not only mine the sharpness of this joy?
Dear Heart, I love you, worship you as though
I were a priest before a holy shrine.
I'm glad that you are beautiful, although
Were you not lovely still I needs must love;
But you are all things, it must have been so
For otherwise it were not you. Come, close;
When you are in the circle of my arm
Faith grows a mountain and I take my stand
Upon its utmost top. Yes, yes, once more
Kiss me, and let me feel you very near
Wanting me wholly, even as I want you.
Have years behind been dark? Will those to come
Bring unguessed sorrows into our two lives?
What does it matter, we have had to-night!
To-night will make us strong, for we believe
Each in the other, this is a sacrament.
Beloved, is it true?
poem by Amy Lowell
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To ---- VI
The brilliant west is glowing,
With sunset's farewell ray;
The silver waves are flowing,
On to the distant sea;
The pale bright stars are keeping
Their watch through night's still hours;
The dews in joy are weeping
Above the new-born flowers;
The city's hum is dying
Upon the perfumed breeze,
That wanders, softly sighing,
Among the flower-crowned trees.
But my vagrant thoughts are roaming
To loved ones far away;
I heed not twilight's coming,
Nor flowers, nor winds at play.
Of a low, sweet voice I'm dreaming,
More soft than the southwinds are,
Of a gentle eye that is beaming,
More bright than the Evening Star;
And I read as many pages
In the depths of that hazel eye,
As were read by the Chaldean sages,
In the glittering stars on high;
And the dreams that float under the cover
Of those snowy lids of thine,
The thoughts in that young heart that hover,
I have magic power to divine.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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O Night O Trembling Night
O night O trembling night O night of sighs
O night when my body was a rod O night
When my mouth was a vague animal cry
Pasturing on her flesh O night
When the close darkness was a nest
Made of her hair and filled with my eyes
(O stars impenetrable above
The fragile tent poled with our thighs
Among the petals falling fields of time
O night revolving all our dark away)
O day O gradual day O sheeted light
Covering her body as with dews
Until I brushed her sealing sleep away
To read once more in the uncurtained day
Her naked love, my great good news.
poem by Stephen Spender
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Poppies
These are the flowers of sleep
That nod in the heavy noon,
Ere the brown shades eastward creep
To a drowsy and dreamful tune—
These are the flowers of sleep.
Love’s lilies are passion-pale,
But these on the sun-kissed flood
Of the corn, that rolls breast deep,
Burn redder than drops of blood
On a dead king’s golden mail.
Heart’s dearest, I would that we
These blooms of forgetfulness
Might bind on our brows, and steep
Our love in Lethe ere less
Grow its flame with thee or me.
When Time with his evil eye
The beautiful Love has slain,
There is nought to gain or keep
Thereafter, and all is vain.
Should we wait to see Love die?
Sweetheart, of the joys men reap
We have reaped; ’tis time to rest.
Why should we wake but to weep?
Sleep and forgetting is best—
These are the flowers of sleep.
poem by Victor James Daley
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To My Loving Wife
when i fail
i must tell you
i do not hide
my weaknesses
i reveal to you
the inner wars
that i have lost
many times,
i do not pretend
that my love
shall triumph in
everything in every-way
there are lapses
shortcomings that
at first i could
have kept within me
we love each other
and in my strengths
you shall love me
more perhaps but in
those situations that
i utterly fail,
i must admit to you
with all courage
that i am down, and
yet you still love me
kiss me, and hug me
like a child that has
come back to you
after having been
lost in the park
i am weaker now
so tired and about
to lose hope of the
promises that i can
be....come with me
sleep with me and
make me feel that
i am the hawk surfing
the skies for its
night stars
once again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lost In The Stars
(kurt weill/maxwell anderson)
Before lord God made the sea and the land
He held all the stars in the palm of his hand
And they ran through his fingers like grains of sand
And one little star fall alone
Then the lord God hunted through the wild night air
For the little dark star in the wind down there
And he stated and promised hed take special care
So it wouldnt get lost again
Now, man dont mind if the stars grow dim
And the clouds blow over and darken him
So long as the lord gods watching over him
Keeping track how it all goes on
But Ive been walking through the night and the day
Till my eyes get weary and my hair turns grey
And sometimes it seems maybe gods gone away
Forgetting the promise that we heard him say
And were lost out here in the stars
Little stars, big stars
Blowing through the night
And were lost out here in the stars
Little stars, big stars
Blowing through the night
And were lost out here in the stars
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oft, in the Stilly Night
Oft, in the stilly night,
Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood's years,
The words of love then spoken;
The eyes that shone,
Now dimm'd and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken!
Thus, in the stilly night,
Ere slumber's chain hath bound me,
Sad memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
When I remember all
The friends, so link'd together,
I've seen around me fall,
Like leaves in wintry weather;
I feel like one
Who treads alone
Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed!
Thus, in the stilly night,
Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
poem by Thomas Moore
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The Stars Are With The Voyager
The stars are with the voyager
Wherever he may sail;
The moon is constant to her time;
The sun will never fail;
But follow, follow round the world,
The green earth and the sea,
So love is with the lover's heart,
Wherever he may be.
Wherever he may be, the stars
Must daily lose their light;
The moon will veil her in the shade;
The sun will set at night.
The sun may set, but constant love
Will shine when he's away;
So that dull night is never night,
And day is brighter day.
poem by Thomas Hood
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When the Light is as Darkness
The morning-tide is fair and bright,
With golden sun up-springing;
The cedars glowed in the new-born light,
And the bell-bird's note was ringing;
While diamonds dropped by dusky Night,
Were yet to the gidyas clinging.
The morning waned - the sun rose high
O'erhead, until 'twas seeming
But a dazzling disc, and the fiery sky
Like an opal sea was gleaming;
And languorous flowers - of morn gone by,
And coming eve - fell dreaming.
And now the moon above does creep
To laugh at red Sol sinking;
While wakening from their sunlit sleep,
A few wan stars are blinking,
And thirsty, drooping flowers deep
Of evening dews are drinking.
The birds will soon their carols cease,
And crows are homeward hieing;
The gloaming deepens, stars increase,
The weary day is dying -
Its requiem, murmurous of peace,
The vesper winds are, sighing.
This night is near! Are you waiting friend,
That Night? - we're drawing nigh it -
When we to the Restful Land shall wend,
And leave life's feverish riot -
When the gods to each tired soul shall send
Eternal, dreamless quiet.
poem by Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant
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In Prison
I cried out for the pain of man,
I cried out for my bitter wrath
Against the hopeless life that ran
For ever in a circling path
From death to death since all began;
Till on a summer night
I lost my way in the pale starlight
And saw our planet, far and small,
Through endless depths of nothing fall
A lonely pin-prick spark of light,
Upon the wide, enfolding night,
With leagues on leagues of stars above it,
And powdered dust of stars below—
Dead things that neither hate nor love it
Not even their own loveliness can know,
Being but cosmic dust and dead.
And if some tears be shed,
Some evil God have power,
Some crown of sorrow sit
Upon a little world for a little hour—
Who shall remember? Who shall care for it?
poem by Clive Staples Lewis
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Night And peace
NIGHT in the woods,—night:
Peace, peace on the plain.
The last red sunset beam
Belts the tall beech with gold;
The quiet kine are in the fold,
And stilly flows the stream.
Soon shall we see the stars again,
For one more day down to its rest has lain,
And all its cares have taken flight,
And all its doubt and pain.
Night in the woods,—night:
Peace, peace on the plain.
poem by Edward Rowland Sill
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A Madrigal
Dream days of fond delight and hours
As rosy-hued as dawn, are mine.
Love's drowsy wine,
Brewed from the heart of Passion flowers,
Flows softly o'er my lips
And save thee, all the world is in eclipse.
There were no light if thou wert not;
The sun would be too sad to shine,
And all the line
Of hours from dawn would be a blot;
And Night would haunt the skies,
An unlaid ghost with staring dark-ringed eyes.
Oh, love, if thou wert not my love,
And I perchance not thine--what then?
Could gift of men
Or favor of the God above,
Plant aught in this bare heart
Or teach this tongue the singer's soulful art?
Ah, no! 'Tis love, and love alone
That spurs my soul so surely on;
Turns night to dawn,
And thorns to roses fairest blown;
And winter drear to spring--
Oh, were it not for love I could not sing!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Your Eyes
The night sky is not a place,
Where I could lost while watching.
That time I would only remember ur face,
But still moons n stars try attracting
I wonder why they are so beautiful!
I could watch them for hour's n hours,
Those two eyes of yours and I give
Damn to those moon n stars.
Stars are millions n your eyes are two
But your eyes are the one to win.
Dear, It's the same mistake they always do
Every night, come to sky n compare with you
Or maybe that's not what they are doing,
They must have known you would be sleeping
In night, so they are taking their chance
Being happy, twinkling in sky and doing dance.
Many would fall in the beauty of the stars
Watching them from roofs, window, street and
Stopping bike and looking through the window of cars
Lost in its beauty and never ending night that's what they demand.
But sorry dear, I also look to the sky.
Laugh at them because I know they are shy
I don't want to see its beauty,
I have a thing to do and I call it my duty.
I ask them not to come to sky ever again
Remember this or else u (stars) would be in a great pain.
I wish if I could destroy then all,
Blast them in pieces with the strongest cannon ball.
Let's leave this and them in their own world.
I know your eyes are too beautiful.
So let me see your eyes until the day is over
I want to lost in its deepness for forever.
Don't try to hide those from me
They are to beautiful so let me see,
Or don't block with your hands or move your head
If I don't see it, still I would be breathing but a man like dead.
So please don't stop me dear,
I can't see it every day,
I am happy, smiling, inside I am dancing
It's all because u came to meet me today…
End
poem by Sushanta Rokka
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In An Illuminated Missal
I would have loved: there are no mates in heaven;
I would be great: there is no pride in heaven;
I would have sung, as doth the nightingale
The summer's night beneath the moone pale,
But Saintes hymnes alone in heaven prevail.
My love, my song, my skill, my high intent,
Have I within this seely book y-pent:
And all that beauty which from every part
I treasured still alway within mine heart,
Whether of form or face angelical,
Or herb or flower, or lofty cathedral,
Upon these sheets below doth lie y-spred,
In quaint devices deftly blazoned.
Lord, in this tome to thee I sanctify
The sinful fruits of worldly fantasy.
1839.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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Nocturne
Night comes, an angel stands
Measuring out the time of stars,
Still are the winds, and still the hours.
It would be peace to lie
Still in the still hours at the angel's feet,
Upon a star hung in a starry sky,
But hearts another measure beat.
Each body, wingless as it lies,
Sends out its butterfly of night
With delicate wings, and jewelled eyes.
And some upon day's shores are cast,
And some in darkness lost
In waves beyond the world, where float
Somewhere the islands of the blest.
poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
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Song of the Bomber
I am purely evil;
Hear the thrum
of my evil engine;
Evilly I come.
The stars are thick as flowers
In the meadows of July;
A fine night for murder
Winging through the sky.
poem by Ethel Mannin (1936)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Fell Deed
a fell deed this night,
in the silent dark,
a dagger flashes,
and blood flows.
a fell deed this night,
done in candlelight,
the knife does fall,
as the victim tumbles.
a fell deed this night,
only a slight,
to the killer,
who doth run.
a fell deed this night,
running he be,
through the slight light,
a corner he turns.
a fell deed this night,
a bang a shot,
a gun doth drop,
a killer killed.
a fell deed this night,
a new killer laughs,
an evil sound.
a fell deed this night.
poem by Baden Ronie
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