But here Sir Benedict fell to silence, walking with face averted and gaze bent towards the dewy grass, and quickened his steps until they were come nigh unto the camp.

Dear heart, what are you doing in this twilight's purple splendor, Do you tend your dewy flowers with fingers white and slender, Heavy, odor-laden branches in blessing bent above you, Fond lilies kneeling at your feet, winds murmuring they love you?

When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.

There was about her a dewy freshness which seemed to brighten up the world.

The doggs have hunted well this dewy morning, And made a merry cry.

They would have thought, who heard the strain, They saw in Tempe's vale her native maids, Amidst the festal-sounding shades, To some unwearied minstrel dancing, While, as his flying fingers kissed the strings, Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round; Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound, And he, amidst his frolic play, As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.

And so home again along the dewy fields, while an orchestra of crickets chirps a happy end beneath the summer stars to the day that is done.

Soft, dewy tears melted in those burning eyes, and sent a mist of sweet effluence over her face.

Pleasantly to their nostrils came the tender fragrance of the purple violets and wild thyme that grew within the dewy moisture of the edge of the little fountain, and pleasantly came the soft gurgle of the water.

On the worn spirit shed, And eyes that wake to weep: A holy thing from heaven, A gracious dewy cloud, A covering mantle, given The weary to enshroud.

Visitors to the Somersby rectory, in which Tennyson was born, note that it fits the description of the home in his fine lyric, The Palace of Art: "...an English home,gray twilight pour'd On dewy pastures, dewy trees, Softer than sleepall things in order stored, A haunt of ancient peace.

From dewy lanes at morning The grapes' sweet odors rise; At noon the roads all flutter With yellow butterflies.

Visitors to the Somersby rectory, in which Tennyson was born, note that it fits the description of the home in his fine lyric, The Palace of Art: "...an English home,gray twilight pour'd On dewy pastures, dewy trees, Softer than sleepall things in order stored, A haunt of ancient peace.

And as they strolled back to the house, by lavender walk and rose garden, and across the dewy lawn, Lesbia questioned herself as to whether she was one whit better or more dignified than Isabella Trinder.

Companies K and H were so beset that they forgot to boil their coffee, and would have gone thirsty to their dewy beds, if the other companies' cooks had not shared their rations with the gossiping heroes.

The morning was yet young when my Beltane fared forth into the world, a joyous, golden morning trilling with the glad song of birds and rich with a thousand dewy scents; a fair, sweet, joyous world it was indeed, whose glories, stealing in at eye and ear, filled him with their gladness.

" HYGEIA, leaning from the blest abodes, The crystal mansions of the immortal gods, 375 Saw the sad Nymph uplift her dewy eyes, Spread her white arms, and breathe her fervid sighs; Call'd to her fair associates, Youth, and Joy, And shot all-radiant through the glittering sky; Loose waved behind her golden train of hair, 380 Her sapphire mantle swam diffus'd in air.

It was early in the morning when we started: the dewy mist rose from the unruffled bosom of the river like the gradual lifting up of a curtain, and, at length, displayed its lofty sides, covered with immense trees, the verdure extending to the very edge of the water.

at night, To lie in darkness on the dewy height, Embracing heaven and earth in rapture high, The soul dilating to a deity; With prescient yearnings pierce the core of earth, Feel in your laboring breast the six-days' birth, Enjoy, in proud delight what no one knows, While your love-rapture o'er creation flows The earthly lost in beatific vision, And then the lofty intuition (with a gesture) I need not tell you howto close!

Fern leaves will look almost as well ten years after they are gathered as on the day on which they are transferred from the dewy hillside to the dry pages of a book.

Sunrise and twilight began to be the hours with which he associated her; and it was strange, that, coming, as she did, out of the full blaze of tropical suns, she yet seemed a creature that had taken life from the fresh, cool, dewy hours, and that must fairly dissolve beneath the sky of noon.

and I saw a glancing, dancing mountain stream, pure as the virgin snows whence it flowed, singing through sun and shade, over pearls and gold dust, slipping along unstained by weed, or rain, or heavy foot of cattle, touching the flowers with a dewy kiss,a beam of grace, a happy song, a line of light, in the dim and troubled landscape.

The leaves with a pleasant rustling sound are stirred Of a night, and the stars are calm and bright; And I know, although I am only a little bird, One large serious star is watching me all the night, For when the dewy leaves are waved by the breeze, I see it forever smiling down on me.

Winding its dark-green wood and emerald glade, The still vale lengthens underneath the shade; While in soft gloom the scattering bowers recede, Green dewy lights adorn the freshened mead, 1815.

Oh! as the charmed glass we sip, We conquer care and pain: It woos like woman's dewy lip, To kissand come again!