Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour When pleasure, like the midnight flower That scorns the eye of vulgar light, Begins to bloom for sons of night.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Come in the evening, or come in the morning,
Come when you're looked for, or come without warning.

Defamation is becoming a necessity of life; inasmuch as a dish of tea in the morning or evening cannot be digested without this stimulant

Good morning, Good afternoon, Good evening, Good night an Amazing day.

An Evening in Margarititaville,