That hour o' night's black arch the keystane.

Midnight, and yet no eye Through all the Imperial City closed in sleep.

No matter our talent, we all know in the midnight of our souls that 90 percent of what we do is less than our best.

Midnight, yet not a nose From Tower Hill to Piccadilly snored!

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve. Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time.

Soon as midnight brought on the dusky hour Friendliest to sleep and silence.