First sight of her and after

A day is drawing to its fall

    I had not dreamed to see;

The first of many to enthrall

    My spirit, will it be?

Or is this eve the end of all

    Such new delight for me?

I journey home; the pattern grows

    Of moonshades on the way:

"Soon the first quarter, I suppose,"

    Sky-glancing travellers say;

I realize that if, for those,

    Has been a common day.

Thomas Hardy - Moments of Vision and Miscellaneous Verses