"Spiry" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... the piebald, and stood transfixed. It was, indeed, the fox!—a magnificent full-brushed fellow, with a slight tendency to grey along the back, and going with the light spiry ease of an animal full ...
— Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour • R. S. Surtees
... through iron brown betrays a sullen gleam. 205 While silent stands the admiring crowd below, Silent the visionary warriors go, Winding in ordered pomp their upward way [Q] Till the last banner of their [63] long array Has disappeared, and every trace is fled 210 Of splendour—save the beacon's spiry head Tipt with eve's latest gleam of ...
— The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth - Volume 1 of 8 • Edited by William Knight
... the frosty air of night Bent down and closed, when day has blanch'd their leaves Rise all unfolded on their spiry stems, So was my fainting ...
— The Development of the Feeling for Nature in the Middle Ages and - Modern Times • Alfred Biese
... vigorous aspiring pines they are. Poor soil seems to be no drawback to the pines, for they appear to possess a native vitality found in no other tree, and push upward sturdily toward the light; their "spiry summits pointing always heavenward." The slender, graceful branches of the hemlock trees are hung with innumerable drooping sprays of bluish green foliage, beautiful as the Osmunda ferns that grow in these wonderful woods. Then how charming their blue flowers and rich brown cones that form clusters ...
— See America First • Orville O. Hiestand
... 145-152. I climbed a cliff with spear and sword in hand, Whose ridge o'erlooked a shady length of land: To learn if aught of mortal works appear, Or cheerful voice of mortal strike the ear. From the high point I marked, in distant view, A stream of curling smoke ascending blue, And spiry tops, the tufted trees above, Of Circe's palace bosomed in the grove. Thither to haste, the region to explore, Was first ...
— Gryll Grange • Thomas Love Peacock
... and in the peaceful floods Inverted hung: for now the billows slept Along the shore, nor heav'd the deep; but spread A shining mirror to the moon's pale orb, Which, dim and waning, o'er the shadowy cliffs, The solemn woods, and spiry mountain tops, Her glimmering faintness threw: now every eye, Oppress'd with toil, was drown'd in deep repose, Save that the unseen Shepherd in his watch, Propp'd on his crook, stood listening by the fold, ...
— The Prose Works of William Wordsworth • William Wordsworth |
