'Look, the world's comforter, with weary gait,
His day's hot task hath ended in the west;
The owl, night's herald, shrieks, ''Tis very late;'
The sheep are gone to fold, birds to their nest,
And coal-black clouds that shadow heaven's light
Do summon us to part and bid good night.
“步履虽重人间好,
功成人困夕阳转;
夜鹰高唱日已老;
飞鸟回巢羊进圈,
天光不见聚黑云,