Twilight -- and then night.
But child hearts need not fear,
For wee little folk are about --
After the lights at home are out,
And shy little feet scamper over the forest floor;
Sweet is the night, and rich its childhood lore,
For the shy little folk of the forest dim,
And the shy little people of the field
Are all under the care of Him
Who teaches mankind little children to shield.
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.
Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit,
To-who, a merry note.
The filmy shapes that haunt the dusk.
|-- Tennyson, in Memoriam|
The Sphinx is drowsy, her wings are furled.
All diamonded with paines of quaint device,
Innumerable, of stains, and splendid dyes,
As are the Tiger Moth's deep damask wings.