But Lily, though her attitude was as calm as his, was throbbing inwardly with a rush of thoughts.
"House of Mirth" by Edith Wharton
The water was often almost covered with rushes and water lilies.
"Caught In The Net" by Emile Gaboriau
He would rush down to Allington and throw himself in despair at Lily's feet.
"The Small House at Allington" by Anthony Trollope
White and yellow flags and brown velvet rushes grew thick about its edge, and water-lilies opened and shut upon its surface.
"Emily Fox-Seton" by Frances Hodgson Burnett
He dived into the weeds and rushes, poked his nose among the lily pads.
"A Chinese Wonder Book" by Norman Hinsdale Pitman
He had rushed at once to others, just to show them who Miss Lily was!
"The Bill-Toppers" by Andre Castaigne
I rush into a thicket after a red lily, and come out a mass of thorns and Spanish needles.
"Under the Southern Cross" by Elizabeth Robins
Redbird swung Floating Lily around to her back and rushed to the silent women, praying that among them she would see Sun Woman or her sisters.
"Shaman" by Robert Shea
In front of the house there was a small pond bordered with lilies and rushes.
"The Cat of Bubastes" by G. A. Henty
Lies stagnant, covered with a mantle Of lily pads and rushes.
"Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, Vol. 15" by Various
His palace is the brake
Where the rushes shine and shake;
His music is the murmur of the stream,
And that leaf-rustle where the lilies dream.
"The Kingfisher" by Maurice Thompson
Through rush and reed
The long, strong tides recede,
Jostle and surge,
And toss and urge,
And foam and merge,
Where lily roots shine bright like bronzen brede.
"The Tides" by Clinton Scollard
Laura stretched her gleaming neck
Like a rush-imbedded swan,
Like a lily from the beck,
Like a moonlit poplar branch,
Like a vessel at the launch
When its last restraint is gone.
"Goblin Market" by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Go stand on the rivulet's lily-fringed side,
Or list where the rivers rush by;
The streamlets which forest trees shadow and hide,
And the rivers that roll in their oceanward tide,
Are moaning forever wherever they glide;
"Lines - 1875" by Abram Joseph Ryan
Oh, the days are growing longer;
Over whispering streams will rushes lean,
To answer the waves' soft murmurous call;
The lily will bend from its watch-tower green,
To list to the lark's low madrigal,
And the days are growing longer.
"Spring Song Of The Swallow" by Marietta Holley