Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his sandal shoon. – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Hyperion

How magnificent the city is by the June moonlight! — after the streets are empty and silent. – Byron Caldwell Smith, letter to Kate Stephens

These blessed candles of the night. – William Shakespeare, referring to stars, Merchant of Venice