Time has fallen asleep in the afternoon sunshine. - Alexander Smith

In winter, when the dismal rain Comes down in slanting lines,
And Wind, that grand old harper, smote His thunder-harp of pines.

We hear the wail of the remorseful winds
In their strange penance. And this wretched orb
Knows not the taste of rest; a maniac world,
Homeless and sobbing through the deep she goes.

The soul of man is like the rolling world,
One half in day, the other dipt in night;
The one has music and the flying cloud,
The other, silence and the wakeful stars.