“The dead of midnight is the noon of thought.”
“Is there notA tongue in every star that talks with man,And wooes him to be wise? nor wooes in vain;This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,And wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.”
“There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,And evening full of the linnet's wings.”
“I am the sunrise of sunsets, and I make love like noon at midnight.”
“Ha! What news here? Is the day out a' th' socketThat it is noon at midnight? The court up?”
“He was my North, my South, my East and West,My working week and my Sunday rest,My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.”