Three sleepless nights I passed in sounding on,

Through words and things, a dim and perilous way.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): The Borderers. Act iv. Sc. 2.

In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds

On half the nations, and with fear of change

Perplexes monarchs.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 597.

And storied windows richly dight,

Casting a dim religious light.

John Milton (1608-1674): Il Penseroso. Line 159.

I'm weary of conjectures,—this must end 'em.

Thus am I doubly armed: my death and life,

My bane and antidote, are both before me:

This in a moment brings me to an end;

But this informs me I shall never die.

The soul, secured in her existence, smiles

At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.

The stars shall fade away, the sun himself

Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years;

But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,

Unhurt amidst the war of elements,

The wrecks of matter, and the crush of worlds.

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

My eyes are dim with childish tears,

My heart is idly stirred,

For the same sound is in my ears

Which in those days I heard.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): The Fountain.

Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 2.

Ships dim-discover'd dropping from the clouds.

James Thomson (1700-1748): The Seasons. Summer. Line 946.