Look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill. [ William Shakespeare, Hamlet ]

Now morn her rosy steps in th' eastern clime,
Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl. [ Milton ]

The eastern gate, all fiery red,
Opening on Neptune, with fair blessed beams,
Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams. [ William Shakespeare ]

The eastern hanging crescent climbeth higher;
See, purple on the azure softly steals.
And Morning, faintly touched with quivering fire
Leans on the frosty summits of the hills,
Like a young girl over her hoary sire. [ Roscoe ]

The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night.
Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light. [ William Shakespeare ]

The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night.
Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light;
And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
From forth day's path, and Titan's fiery wheels. [ William Shakespeare ]

In eastern lands they talk in flowers, and they tell in a garland their loves and cares. [ Percival ]

So, on the eastern summit, clad in gray, morn, like a horseman girt for travel, comes, and from his tower of mist night's watchman hurries down. [ H. K. White ]