The sky was a deep, cloudless blue, and the sun poured his rays down into the valleys with a clear, genial warmth which just rendered perceptible the bracing exhilaration of the air.
The sky was pure opal now, and the roofs of the houses glistened like silver against it.
The sky was an inverted cup of blue metal.
The sun had begun to set and the sky was sapphire, contrasting beautifully with the green of the treetops.
As wide as the skies is Thy mercy, O God; Thy faithfulness shieldeth creation.
The water shone pacifically; the sky, without a speck, was a benign immensity of unstained light; the very mist on the Essex marshes was like a gauzy and radiant fabric, hung from the wooded rises inland, and draping the low shores in diaphanous folds.
The marshes were just a long black horizontal line then, as I stopped to look after him; and the river was just another horizontal line, not nearly so broad nor yet so black; and the sky was just a row of long angry red lines and dense black lines intermixed.
On the extreme summit, where the ends of the two converging hedges of which we have spoken were stopped short by meeting the brow of the chalk-pit, he saw the younger dog standing against the sky -- dark and motionless as Napoleon at St. Helena.
The sky was colorless metal with a hole cut into it for the sun to poke through with a cold glow.
The sky is a soggy purple when we return to the Home.
Overhead the stars were mustering, and in the west the sky was still a pale, bright, almost greenish blue.
I sought no shelter, therefore, but the sky; and toiling into Chatham,—which, in that night’s aspect, is a mere dream of chalk, and drawbridges, and mastless ships in a muddy river, roofed like Noah’s arks,—crept, at last, upon a sort of grass-grown battery overhanging a lane, where a sentry was walking to and fro.