When the gray-hooded Even,

Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed,

Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain.

John Milton (1608-1674): Comus. Line 188.

That full star that ushers in the even.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Sonnet cxxxii.

Even such is time, that takes in trust

Our youth, our joys, our all we have,

And pays us but with age and dust;

Who in the dark and silent grave,

When we have wandered all our ways,

Shuts up the story of our days.

But from this earth, this grave, this dust,

My God shall raise me up, I trust!

Sir Walter Raleigh (1552-1618): Written the night before his death.—Found in his Bible in the Gate-house at Westminster.

Thus with the year

Seasons return; but not to me returns

Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn,

Or sight of vernal bloom or summer's rose,

Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;

But cloud instead, and ever-during dark

Surrounds me; from the cheerful ways of men

Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair

Presented with a universal blank

Of Nature's works, to me expung'd and raz'd,

And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book iii. Line 40.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife

Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;

Along the cool sequester'd vale of life

They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

Thomas Gray (1716-1771): Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 19.

That full star that ushers in the even.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Sonnet cxxxii.

If it were done when 't is done, then 't were well

It were done quickly: if the assassination

Could trammel up the consequence, and catch

With his surcease success; that but this blow

Might be the be-all and the end-all here,

But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,

We 'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases

We still have judgment here; that we but teach

Bloody instructions, which being taught, return

To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice

Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice

To our own lips.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 7.

Be the day never so long,

Evermore at last they ring to evensong.

John Heywood (Circa 1565): Proverbes. Part ii. Chap. vii.