Just above yon sandy bar,
As the day grows fainter and dimmer.
Lonely and lovely, a single star
Lights the air with a dusky glimmer. [ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ]
Fine words! I wonder where yon stole them. [ Swift ]
Look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill. [ William Shakespeare, Hamlet ]
When over the street the morning peal is flung,
From yon tall belfry with the brazen tongue,
Its wide vibrations, wafted by the gale,
To each far listener tell a different tale. [ Holmes ]
O love, they die, in yon rich sky.
They faint on hill or field or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul.
And grow forever and forever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. [ Tennyson ]
O nightingale, that on yon blooming spray
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still,
Thou with fresh hope the lovers heart doth fill! [ Milton ]
Yon gray lines that fret the clouds are messengers of day. [ William Shakespeare ]
From yon blue heaven above us bent, the grand old gardener and his wife smile at the claims of long descent. [ Tennyson ]
It was the nightingale, and not the lark, that pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree. [ William Shakespeare ]
Learn, O student, the true wisdom. See yon bush aflame with roses, like the burning bush of Moses. Listen, and thou shalt hear, if thy soul be not deaf, how from out it, soft and clear, speaks to thee the Lord Almighty. [ Hafiz ]