Danish Winter Landscape with Dolmen, Johan Christian Dahl, 1838

The Villa Malta, Rome, Johan Christian Dahl, 1821

“Out in the Dark” - Edward Thomas (1878-1917)

Out in the dark over the snow The fallow fawns invisible go With the fallow doe; And the winds blow Fast as the stars are slow. Stealthily the dark haunts round And, when the lamp goes, without sound At a swifter bound Than the swiftest hound, Arrives, and all else is drowned; And I and star and wind and deer, Are in the dark together,---near, Yet far,---and fear Drums on my ear In that sage company drear. How weak and little is the light, All the universe of sight, Love and delight, Before the might, If you love it not, of night.

View of Dresden by Moonlight, Johan Christian Dahl, 1838

Oak Tree by the Elbe in Winter, Johan Christian Dahl, 1853

“Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal, Now the White” (from “The Princess”) - Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font. The firefly wakens; waken thou with me.   Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost, And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.   Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars, And all thy heart lies open unto me.   Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.   Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, And slips into the bosom of the lake. So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip Into my bosom and be lost in me.

View of Dresden by Moonlight, Johan Christian Dahl, 1838

Landscape with Memorial Stones, Johan Christian Dahl, 1839

Copenhagen Harbor by Moonlight, Johan Christian Dahl, 1846

Shipwreck on the Coast of Norway, Johan Christian Dahl, 1832

Morning after a Stormy Night, Johan Christian Dahl, 1819

Megalith Grave near Vordingborg in Winter, Johan Christian Dahl, 1824-5

On the Aftermath of Pompeii

Martial, Epigrams 4.44 This is Vesuvius- a mountain so recently    Green with vine-cast shadows; Here, the noble grape-cluster filled the vats    With its juice to the point of flooding. Bacchus loved these slopes more dearly    Than the hills of his home on Nysa; It wasn’t long ago that the satyrs assembled    Their choruses on the mountainside. This was Venus’ home as well,    More pleasing to her than Sparta; And the name of mighty Hercules    Lent its renown to this land. Now all things lie consumed by flames    And buried in bitter ash; Even the gods above would prefer    That this hadn’t been in their power. Hic est pampineis uiridis modo Vesbius umbris,    presserat hic madidos nobilis uua lacus: haec iuga quam Nysae colles plus Bacchus amauit;    hoc nuper Satyri monte dedere choros; haec Veneris sedes, Lacedaemone gratior illi;    hic locus Herculeo nomine clarus erat. Cuncta iacent flammis et tristi mersa fauilla:    nec superi uellent hoc licuisse sibi.

Eruption of Vesuvius, Johan Christian Dahl, ca. 1823