55. The _high festival of night_, When earth is radiant with delight, And fast as weary day retires The heaven unfolds its secret fires, Bright, as when first the firmament Around the new-made world was bent, And infant seraphs pierced the blue, Till rays of heaven came shining through. W. B. O. PEABODY. 56. When the _sun_ _Rises_, visiting earth with light, and heat, And joy; and seems as full of youth, and strong To mount the steep of heaven, as when the stars Of morning sang to his first dawn. POLLOK--_Course of Time_. 57. Let others hail the oriflamme of morn, O'er kindling hills unfurl'd, with gorgeous dyes, Oh, mild blue _evening_, still to thee we turn, With holier thoughts and with undazzled eyes. R. C. SANDS. 58. _Night_; when a cloud, which through the sky, Sailing alone, doth cross in her career The rolling moon;--to watch it as it comes, And deem the deep opaque will blot her beams; But melting like a wreath of snow, it hangs In folds of wavy silver round, and clothes The orb with richer beauties than her own; Then, passing, leaves her in her light serene. SOUTHEY--_Madoc_. 59. Thine own loved _moon's_, That every soft and solemn spirit worships; That lovers love so well; strange joy is _hers_, Whose influence o'er all tides of soul hath power. She lends her light to rapture and despair; The glow of hope, and wan hue of sick fancy, Alike reflect her rays; alike they light The path of meeting or of parting love; Alike on mingling or on breaking hearts _She_ smiles in throned beauty. MATURIN--_Bertram_. 60. _Sunrise;_ Rolling back the clouds into Vapors more lovely than the unclouded sky, With golden pinnacles and snowy mountains, And billows purpler than the ocean's, making In heaven a glorious mockery of the earth, So like, we almost deem it permanent; So fleeting, we can scarcely call it aught Beyond a vision, 'tis so transiently Scatter'd along the eternal vault; and yet It dwells upon the soul, and sooths the soul, And blends itself into the soul, until Sunrise and sunset form the haunted epoch Of sorrow and of love. BYRON--_Sardanapalus_. WHAT MUSICAL SOUNDS DO YOU LOVE? Oh for some soul-affecting scheme Of _moral_ music. WORDSWORTH. Music, round her creep---- Seek her out, and when you find her, Gentle, gentlest music, wind her Round and round, Round and round, With your bands of softest sound. BARRY CORNWALL.