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The Night has a thousand eyes,
And the Day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying sun.
--
"Light" (popularly known as "The Night has a Thousand Eyes"), published in The Spectator (October 1873).

 

Francis William Bourdillon

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She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

 

Lord Byron

 

In your eyes,
The light, the heat.
In your eyes,
I am complete.
In your eyes,
I see the doorway to a thousand churches.
In your eyes,
The resolution of all the fruitless searches.

 

Peter Gabriel

 

We cannot for forgetfulness forego the reverence due to them
Who wear at times they do not guess the sceptre and the diadem.
As bright a crown as this was theirs when first they from the Father sped;
Yet look with deeper eyes and still the ancient beauty is not dead.
He mingled with the multitude. I saw their brows were crowned and bright,
A light around the shadowy heads, a shadow round the head of light.

 

George William Russell

 

Sister, awake! close not your eyes,
The day her light discloses;
And the bright morning doth arise
Out of her bed of roses.

See the clear sun, the world's bright eye,
In at our window peeping;
Lo, how he blusheth to espy
Us idle wenches sleeping!

Therefore awake, make haste I say,
And let us without staying
All in our gowns of green so gay
Into the park a maying.

 

Thomas Bateson

 

Where hunters and woodcutters once slept in their boots by the dying light of their thousand fires and went on, old teutonic forebears with eyes incandesced by the visionary light of a massive rapacity, wave on wave of the violent and the insane, their brains stoked with spoorless analogues of all that was, lean aryans with their abrogate semitic chapbook reenacting the dramas and parables therein and mindless and pale with a longing that nothing save dark's total restitution could appease.

 

Cormac McCarthy