Who can paint
  Like Nature?  Can imagination boast,
  Amid its gay creation, hues like hers?
The Seasons:  Spring.  J. THOMSON.

For Art may err, but Nature cannot miss. The Cock and Fox.  J. DRYDEN.

The course of nature is the art of God. Night Thoughts, Night IX.  DR. E. YOUNG.

’Tis elder Scripture, writ by God’s own hand: 
Scripture authentic! uncorrupt by man.
Night Thoughts, Night IX.  DR. E. YOUNG.

Nature, the vicar of the almightie Lord. Assembly of Foules.  CHAUCER.

To the solid ground
Of nature trusts the Mind that builds for aye.
Miscellaneous Sonnets.  W. WORDSWORTH.

NIGHT.

Darkness now rose,
As daylight sunk, and brought in low’ring Night,
Her shadowy offspring.
Paradise Regained, Bk.  IV.  MILTON.

Now black and deep the Night begins to fall,
A shade immense!  Sunk in the quenching gloom,
Magnificent and vast, are heaven and earth. 
Order confounded lies; all beauty void,
Distinction lost, and gay variety
One universal blot:  such the fair power
Of light, to kindle and create the whole.
The Seasons:  Autumn.  J. THOMSON.

      How beautiful is night! 
    A dewy freshness fills the silent air;
  No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain,
    Breaks the serene of heaven: 
    In full-orbed glory, yonder moon divine
    Rolls through the dark-blue depths. 
      Beneath her steady ray
      The desert-circle spreads. 
  Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky. 
      How beautiful is night!
Thalaba.  R. SOUTHEY.

  This sacred shade and solitude, what is it? 
  ’Tis the felt presence of the Deity.

* * * * *

By night an atheist half believes a God. Night Thoughts, Night V.  DR. E. YOUNG.

  Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne,
  In rayless majesty, now stretches forth
  Her leaden sceptre o’er a slumbering world.
Night Thoughts, Night I.  DR. E. YOUNG.

                    All is gentle; naught
  Stirs rudely; but, congenial with the night,
  Whatever walks is gliding like a spirit.
Doge of Venice.  LORD BYRON.

  O radiant Dark!  O darkly fostered ray! 
  Thou hast a joy too deep for shallow Day.
The Spanish Gypsy, Bk.  I.  GEORGE ELIOT.

  I linger yet with Nature, for the night
  Hath been to me a more familiar face
  Than that of man; and in her starry shade
  Of dim and solitary loveliness,
  I learned the language of another world.
Manfred, Act iii.  Sc. 4.  LORD BYRON.

  Night is the time for rest;
    How sweet, when labors close. 
  To gather round an aching breast
    The curtain of repose,
  Stretch the tired limbs, and lay the head
  Down on our own delightful bed!
Night.  J. MONTGOMERY.