Fairest of stars, last in the train of night,

If better thou belong not to the dawn.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book v. Line 166.

Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow,—

Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 182.

Aurora now, fair daughter of the dawn,

Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): The Iliad of Homer. Book viii. Line 1.

When now Aurora, daughter of the dawn,

With rosy lustre purpled o'er the lawn.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): The Odyssey of Homer. Book iii. Line 516.

Clothing the palpable and familiar

With golden exhalations of the dawn.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834): The Death of Wallenstein. Act i. Sc. 1.

Kathleen mavourneen! the grey dawn is breaking,

The horn of the hunter is heard on the hill.

Anne Crawford (1734-1801): Kathleen Mavourneen.

The dawn is overcast, the morning lowers,

And heavily in clouds brings on the day,

The great, the important day, big with the fate

Of Cato and of Rome.

Joseph Addison (1672-1719): Cato. Act i. Sc. 1.

But he is risen, a later star of dawn.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): A Morning Exercise.

She was a phantom of delight

When first she gleamed upon my sight,

A lovely apparition, sent

To be a moment's ornament;

Her eyes as stars of twilight fair,

Like twilights too her dusky hair,

But all things else about her drawn

From May-time and the cheerful dawn.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): She was a Phantom of Delight.

No sun, no moon, no morn, no noon,

No dawn, no dusk, no proper time of day,

 .   .   .   .   .

No road, no street, no t' other side the way,

 .   .   .   .   .

No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,

No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no buds.

Thomas Hood (1798-1845): November.

Yet there was round thee such a dawn

Of light, ne'er seen before,

As fancy never could have drawn,

And never can restore.

Charles Wolfe (1791-1823): To Mary.

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,

Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid.

Reginald Heber (1783-1826): Epiphany.