Saturday Night. (From The Villager's Verse-Book.)

Come, let us, ere we go to bed,
O'er the decaying embers chat,
Though little Mary hangs her head,
And strokes no more the purring cat.

And let us tell how prisoners pine
In silent dungeons dark and drear;
Whilst on each face the embers shine,
And all is calm and peaceful here.

The English cot is free from cares;
But, see, the brand is wasted quite;
Come, little Mary, say your prayers;
Kiss, mother, kiss! good night, good night!

William Lisle Bowles

William Lisle Bowles was an English cleric, poet, and critic who was born on 24th September 1762 and died on 7th April 1850. He is best known for his sonnets, which were highly praised by the Romantic poets. Bowles's work significantly influenced Samuel Taylor Coleridge and William Wordsworth. Besides his poetry, he wrote extensively on literary criticism and editing. Bowles spent much of his clerical career in Wiltshire and Gloucestershire.

William Lisle Bowles

Greenwich Hospital

William Lisle Bowles, Simple Poetry

The Greenwich Pensioners.

William Lisle Bowles, Simple Poetry

On Entering Switzerland

William Lisle Bowles, Simple Poetry

On Resigning A Scholarship Of Trinity College, Oxford, And Retiring To A Country Curacy.

William Lisle Bowles, Simple Poetry

English

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Sunday Night. (From The Villager's Verse-Book.)

Let us unfold God's holy book,
And by the taper's light,
With hearts subdued, and sober look,
So spend the Sabbath night.

Where now the thoughts of anxious life,
Its guilty pleasures, where?
Here dies its loud and mourning strife,
And all its sounds of care.

Let other views our hearts engross,
To our Redeemer true,
Who seems expiring on the cross,
To say, I died for you!

William Lisle Bowles

Summer's Evening. (From The Villager's Verse-Book.)

As homeward by the evening star
I pass along the plain,
I see the taper's light afar,
Shine through our cottage pane.

My brothers and my sisters dear,
The child upon the knee,
Spring when my hastening steps they hear,
And smile to welcome me.

But when the fire is growing dim,
And mother's labours cease,
I fold my hands, repeat my hymn,
And lay me down in peace.

William Lisle Bowles

Night.

Lo! where the car of Day down slopes of flame
On burnished axle quits the drowsy skies!
And as his snorting steeds of glowing brass
Rush 'neath the earth, a glimmering dust of gold
From their fierce hoofs o'er heaven's azure meads
Rolls to yon star that burns beneath the moon.
With solemn tread and holy-stoled, star-bound,
The Night steps in, sad votaress, like a nun,
To pace lone corridors of th' ebon-archéd sky.
How sad! how beautiful! her raven locks
Pale-filleted with stars that dance their sheen
On her deep, holy eyes, and woo to sleep,
Sleep or the easeful slumber of white Death!
How calm o'er this great water, in its flow
Silent and vast, smoothes yon cold sister sphere,
Her lucid chasteness feathering the wax-white foam!
As o'er a troubled brow falls c...

Madison Julius Cawein

Time For Bed

    "Time for bed!" - the weary day
With its toils has passed away
Sol has wrapped his forehead bright
In the curtains of the night,
And his glorious lamp again
Lowered behind the western main
Leaving all heaven's pure expanse
Radiant with his parting glance

    Just a few, faint stars are seen
Ranged around the midnight queen -
A select and glorious band
Who alone may waiting stand
Hound the monarch of the night,
Bearing up their urns of light,
Her majestic path to cheer
Till the shadows disappear.

    "Time for bed!" the folded flowers
Hang their heads in forest bowers;
Nestled in each downy nest
Day's sweet songsters calmly rest;
And the night-bird's plaintive hymn
Echoes through the forest dim;
Dew-drops on the bir...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Good Night

Good night, good night! - the day
Slowly has borne away,
                Music and light;
Once more the starry train
Sweeps over vale and plain,
Soft falls the dews again -
                Good night-good night!

Day's weary toils are done,
Set is the glorious sun,
                Faded the light; -
Now, to the weary breast
Ever a welcome guest, -
Comes the sweet hour of rest -
                Good night - good night!

Evening's cool shadows lie
Calmly o'er earth and sky;
                And, from the height
Of the far, wooded hill,
Sends the lone whip-poor-will,
Softer and sweeter still,
                Plaintive good night.

Gently let slumber lie
On every weary eye
                Tired of the light!
E'...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Good Night.

The sun has sunk behind the hills,
The shadows o'er the landscape creep;
A drowsy sound the woodland fills,
And nature folds her arms to sleep:
Good night good night.

The chattering jay has ceased his din
The noisy robin sings no more
The crow, his mountain haunt within,
Dreams 'mid the forest's surly roar:
Good night good night.

The sunlit cloud floats dim and pale;
The dew is falling soft and still;
The mist hangs trembling o'er the vale,
And silence broods o'er yonder mill:
Goodnight good night.

The rose, so ruddy in the light,
Bends on its stem all rayless now,
And by its side the lily white
A sister shadow, seems to bow:
Good night good night.

The bat may wheel on silent wing
The fox his guilty vigils keep<...

Samuel Griswold Goodrich