Gray hairs seem to my fancy like the soft light of the moon, silvering over the evening of life.

Joy descends gently upon us like the evening dew, and does not patter down like a hailstorm.

The darkness of death is like the evening twilight; it makes all objects appear more lovely to the dying.

Sweet the coming on / Of grateful evening mild; then silent night / With this her solemn bird and this fair moon, / And these the gems of heaven, her starry train.

How gently rock yon poplars high Against the reach of primrose sky With heaven's pale candles stored.

Friendship is the shadow of the evening, which increases with the setting sun of life