Midnight! the outpost of advancing day! The frontier town and citadel of night!
Henry Wadsworth LongfellowEvery man has a paradise around him till he sins, and the angel of an accusing conscience drives him from his Eden.
Henry Wadsworth LongfellowOut of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow Descends the snow.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow