My hair is grey, but not with years,
Nor grew it white
In a single night,
As men's have grown from sudden fears.
When all candels be out, all cats be grey,
All thingis are then of one colour, as who sey.
And this prouerbe faith, for quenching hot desyre,
Foul water as soone as fayre, will quenche hot fyre.
507. All Cats are alike grey in the Night.
A face peered. All the grey night
In chaos of vacancy shone;
Nought but vast sorrow was there—
The sweet cheat gone.
Whoever hears me assert that the grey cat playing just now in the yard is the same one that did jumps and tricks there five hundred years ago will think whatever he likes of me, but it is a stranger form of madness to imagine that the present-day cat is fundamentally an entirely different one.
In the night all cats are gray.
Whoever heard me assert that the grey cat playing just now in the yard is the same one that did jumps and tricks there five hundred years ago will think whatever he likes of me, but it is a stranger form of madness to imagine that the present-day cat is fundamentally an entirely different one.
I
think that the
world should be full of cats and full of rain, that's all, just
cats and
rain, rain and cats, very nice, good
night.
The City is of Night; perchance of Death,
But certainly of Night; for never there
Can come the lucid morning's fragrant breath
After the dewy dawning's cold grey air.
Grey and grey and grey and grey