Men with too short coat-sleeves and collars turned up; women with beery eyes and uneven skirt-hems dank with the bilge-water of life's lower decks.

The night is dark, and evermore The thick drops patter on the pane The wind is weary of the rain, And round the thatches moaneth sore; Dark is the night, and cold the air; And all the trees stand stark and bare, With leaves spread dank and sere below, Slow rotting on the plashy clay, In the God's-acre far away, Where she, O God!

The mystical philosophy seems to me safe enough in the hands of a poet: with others it may degenerate into dank and dusty materialism.

The windows were boarded up from sills to lintels, the air was close and dank with the stale flavour of foul tidal waters.

After crossing the sand, we again entered some thin scrubby acacia jungle, with here and there a moist swampy nullah, with rank green patair jungle growing in the cool dank shade.

So saying, through each Thicket Dank or Dry, Like a black Mist, low creeping, he held on His Midnight Search, where soonest he might find The Serpent: him fast sleeping soon he found In Labyrinth of many a Round self-roll'd, His Head the midst, well stor'd with subtle Wiles.

The mist smelt cold and dank.

Across the sands of Dee;' The western wind was wild and dank with foam, And all alone went she.

Dank and foul, dank and foul, By the smoky town in its murky cowl; Foul and dank, foul and dank, By wharf and sewer and slimy bank; Darker and darker

Dank and foul, dank and foul, By the smoky town in its murky cowl; Foul and dank, foul and dank, By wharf and sewer and slimy bank; Darker and darker

Dank and foul, dank and foul, By the smoky town in its murky cowl; Foul and dank, foul and dank, By wharf and sewer and slimy bank; Darker and darker

Dank and foul, dank and foul, By the smoky town in its murky cowl; Foul and dank, foul and dank, By wharf and sewer and slimy bank; Darker and darker

Or southern Christmas, dark and dank with mist, And heavy with the scent of steaming leaves, And rosebuds mouldering on the dripping porch; One twilight, without rise or set of sun, Till beetles drone along the hollow lane, And round the leafless hawthorns, flitting bats Hawk the pale moths of winter?

300 My lips were wet, my throat was cold, My garments all were dank; Sure I had drunken in my dreams, And still my body drank.

In his later speculations, this author conceives that the termination ish forms the first degree of comparison; as, "Imperfect, dankish," Pos. dank, Comp. danker, Superl.

Somewhere in Germany a woman was waiting for the scrap of paper, wet with dew and half obliterated by mud, which I picked up in the Forest of Compiègne She would wait week after week for that letter from the front, and day after day during those weeks she would be sick at heart because no word came, no word which would make her say, "Gott sei dank!"

By Michael Carlton Dank.

Michael Carlton Dank (A); 22Feb74; R570823. R570824.

On a grey and wintry day one is chiefly impressed by the dank chilliness of the palaces on the Grand Canal, whose feet lie lapped in slimy water; the lovely tracery of whose windows shows ragged and broken, whose stately guest-chambers are in the sordid occupation of the dealer in false antiques, and whose motto might be "Ichabod," for their glory has departed.

Still later, in November, the morning mist lingers over gorse and heath, and on the upper surfaces of the long dank grass blades, bowed by their own weight, are white beads of dew.

For it was assuredly true that while Miss Katie's historic ancestors had been Celtiberians, clad on occasion only in a thin coating of blue paint, Miss Althea's had dwelt in the dank marshes of the Elbe and had been unmistakably Teutonic, though this curse had been largely removed by racial intermarriage during subsequent thousands of years.

For presently it had come on to raina thick, dank rain, which wetted through all covering, yet fell soft as caressing on the skin.

As the stone came clear, into the hands of the invaders, a dank, chill blast of air blew from the aperture against the white men's faces.

Alaswhen ends my misery?" The grave physician held the cup; he drank Its cooling at a draught, then feebly sank Among the pillows, still with wandering eye About the chamber, from his forehead dank Wiping the dews: "They're gone?

Bred far below, in dank malarious slime, That Serpent hath no power to soar in air, Save clinging to winged creatures that can climb The empyrean; yet from its foul lair