Jean Toomer wrote:

Up from the skeleton stone walls, up from the rotting floor boards and the solid hand-hewn beams of oak of the pre-war cotton factory, dusk came. Up from the dusk the full moon came. Glowing like a fired pine-knot, it illumined the great door and soft showered the Negro shanties aligned along the single street of factory town. The full moon in the great door was an omen. Negro women improvised songs against its spell.

This is a gorgeous piece of writing, I think. Up, the dusk comes. Traditionally speaking, the sun (or morning) comes up and night (or dusk) falls. It's reversed from convention here, but not inaccurately. Following dusk is the full moon. It's the packaging that really does it for me. Metaphor. Skeleton stone walls. Soft showered.