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ﻮﺑﻻگ
Iran
This Dead Of Midnight Is The Noon Of Thought, And Wisdom Mounts Her Zenith With The Stars.
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This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,
And Wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.
-- Mrs. Barbauld (1743-1825)
-- A Summer's Evening Meditation
Related:
From morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,-- A summer's day
and with the setting sun Dropp'd from the Zenith like a falling star....
So fades a summer cloud away; So sinks the gale when storms are o'e
So gently shuts the eye of day; So dies a wave along the shore....
It is to hope, though hope were lost. -- Mrs. Barbauld (1743-1825) -- Come here, Fond Youth
Man is the nobler growth our realms supply, And souls are ripened in our northern sky.
-- Mrs. Barbauld (1743-1825) -- The Invitatio...
Child of mortality, whence comest thou? Why is thy countenance sad, and why are thine eyes red with weeping?
-- Mrs. Barbauld (1743-1825) -- Hymns in Prose, xiii...
All right, seniors, we'd all love to share in your wisdom, experience, yadda yadda yadda.
-- Mrs. Krabappel shows her deepest interest, "The Curse of the Flying Hellfish...
A dull summer evening can be eliminated by one little ole hungry mosquito!
Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth
While all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole....
You are sunlight and I, moon.