Must I thus leave thee, Paradise?—thus leave

Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades?

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book xi. Line 269.

Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks

In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades

High over-arch'd imbower.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 302.

O'er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp,

Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 620.

My life is like the summer rose

That opens to the morning sky,

But ere the shades of evening close

Is scattered on the ground—to die.

Richard Henry Wilde (1789-1847): My Life is like the Summer Rose.

Fled

Murmuring, and with him fled the shades of night.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 1014.

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.

Joseph Addison (1672-1719): Ode.

Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks

In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades

High over-arch'd imbower.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 302.