Dewy evening's soft and sacred lull. [ Paul H. Hayne ]

The rose saith in the dewy morn,
I am most fair; Yet all my loveliness is born
Upon a thorn. [ Christina G. Rossetti ]

'Tis beautiful, when first the dewy light
Breaks on the earth! while yet the scented air
Is breathing the cool freshness of the night
And the bright clouds a tint of crimson wear. [ Elizabeth M. Chandler ]

How beautiful is night!
A dewy freshness fills the silent air.
No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain
Breaks the serene heaven:
In full-orb'd 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! [ Southey ]

The morn is up again, the dewy morn,
With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom,
Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn,
And living as if earth contain'd no tomb, -
And glowing into day. [ Byron ]

At last the golden oriental gate
Of greatest heaven began to open fair;
And Phoebus, fresh as bridegroom to his mate,
Came dancing forth shaking his dewy hair,
And hurled his glistering beams through gloomy air. [ Spenser ]

The dewy morn, with breath all incense and with cheek all bloom. [ Byron ]

Reading Chaucer is like brushing through the dewy grass at sunrise. [ Lowell ]

Floral apostles! that in dewy splendor weep without woe, and blush without a crime. [ Horace Smith ]

Mild May's eldest child, the coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, the murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. [ Keats ]